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Mosques of Omar aud El Aksa. Hill of Evil Counsel. Mount Z.on. Sukhrah,or Dome of the Uock, and Platform. Old Tower at Jaffa Gate. Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Governor's House. Herod's Gate. Church of St. Anne. St ..Stephen’s Gate. 

JERUSALEM, FROM THE GOLDEN GATE, SHOWING THE TEMPLE AREA IN THE FOREGROUND, WITH THE MOSQUES AND MINARETS IN THE HOLY PLACE. 






Mount of Olives. 


llerodion, above Bethlehem. 


Mount of Corruption. Gethscmane. 


East Wall and Golden Gate 


Mount Moriah, Valley of Kulron, and Road to Anathtth. 


North Wall and Bezetha. 


Hills south of Plain of llephaim. 


Upper Valley mid Fields of the Kidron. 


Tombs of ttic Kings. 


“BEAUTIFUL FOR SITUATION, THE JOY OF THE WHOLE EARTH, IS MOUNT ZION, ON THE SIDES OF THE NORTH, THE CITY OF THE GREAT KING.'’ 





















































































EASTWARD 

y 

Br NORMAN MACLEOD, d.d., 

ONE OF HER MAJESTY'S CHAPLAINS. 


rriTH SEVENTY ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS, ENGRAVED 
BY JOSEPH SIT A IN 





LONDON AND NEW YORK 
1866 





















ALEXANDER STRAHAN 


148, Strand 
178, Grand Street . 



London 
New York 










CONTENTS 


PAGE 

I.—TO MALTA AND ALEXANDRIA.1 

II.—CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS.22 

III. —CAIRO AND THE RED SEA.48 

IV. —JAFFA.73 

V.—NEBY SAMWIL.98 

VI.—JERUSALEM-WITHIN THE WALLS.117 

YIL—JERUSALEM—WITHOUT THE WALLS . . . .159 

VIII.—THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF JERUSALEM . . . . 189 

IX.—BETHLEHEM TO SAMARIA.216 

X.—SAMARIA TO TIBERIAS.240 

XI.—OUT OF PALESTINE.266 
























ILLUSTRATIONS 


These Engravings , with a few exceptions, are from Photographs taken by James Graham. Esq. 


PANORAMIC VIEWS OF JERUSALEM AND ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD 


frontispiece. 


PAGE 

facing 7 
13 


»> 

>> 

>» 


MALTA., 

SCENE ON THE QUAY AT ALEXANDRIA ON THE ARRIVAL OF A STEAMER 
VIEW OF THE PYRAMIDS, ON APPROACHING THEM FROM THE PLAIN ,, 

STREET SCENE IN CAIRO . „ 

SUEZ BAY AND THE RED SEA.. 

CAIRO, WITH THE RUINED MOSQUE OF TAYLOON ... ,, 

JAFFA, FROM THE SOUTH.. 

JAFFA, FROM THE NORTH-NORl'H-EAST. ,, 

FOUNTAIN OF ABRAHAM . 

CHURCH OF ST. GEORGE. 

EL-JIB (GIDEON), WITH NEBY 8AMWIL IN THE DISTANCE 

GIBEON. ,, 

POOL OF HEZEKIAH.. 

THE OLD TOWER AT THE JAFFA GATE, AND THE CITADEL . ,, 

THE CHURCH OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE.,, 

PANORAMIC VIEW OF THE TEMPLE AREA FROM MOUNT ZION . ,, 

MOUNT MORIAH AND THE MOUNT OF OLIVES, WITH THE KIDRON VALLEY, 
SILOAM, AND THE MOUNT OF CORRUPTION, FROM THE SOUTH ,, 
ACELDAMA AND THE VALLEY OF THE SON OF HINNOM, FROM THE NORTH¬ 
EAST . ,, 

EN-ROGEL, FROM THE SOUTH.. 

VIEW SHOWING THE RELATIVE POSITIONS OF GETHSEMANE AND JERUSALEM 
COUNTRY BETWEEN JERUSALEM AND BETHANY, SHOWING THE THREE SUM¬ 
MITS OF THE MOUNT OF OLIVES.. 

VIEW FROM THE SPOT WHERE JESUS BEHELD THE CITY, AND WEPT OVER IT 

AIN ES SULTAN.„ 

THE JORDAN BELOW JERICHO. „ 

REMAINS OF JERICHO ..„ 

“THE NORTH BAY OF THE SALT SEA, AT THE SOUTH END OF JORDAN” 

CONVENT OF MAR SABA.. 

THE SOUTH OF PALESTINE. ,, 

POOLS OF SOLOMON.. 

PANORAMIC VIEW OF HEBRON, FROM THE SOUTH-WEST . . ,, 

PANORAMIC VIEW OF HEBRON AND THE PLAIN OF MAMRE FROM THE 

SOUTH-EAST. ,, 

BETHLEHEM, WITH THE CHURCH OF THE NATIVITY AND CONVENTS, FROM 

THE NORTH ,, 

BETHEL, FROM THE SOUTH. „ 

THE VALLEY AND TOWN OF NABLOUS (THE ANCIENT SHECHEM) . ,, 


32 

41 

60 

67 

78 

80 

91 

92 
102 
114 
125 
128 
132 
148 

166 

167 

170 

172 

177 

178 
195 

199 

200 
202 
205 
207 
209 
212 

214 

216 

225 

233 
































I. 


TO MALTA AND ALEXANDRIA. 



was not ordered by “ the doctors ” 
to visit the East for the good of my 
health, which, I am thankful to 
say, was and continues to be ex¬ 
cellent; nor was I deputed by the 
Church to which I haye the honour 
to belong to undertake a mis¬ 
sionary tour; nor did I propose to 
myself the vain attempt of writing 
a book describing the East for the 
thousandth time, whether in the 
form of “ letters,” “ tour,” “ diary,” 
“ sketches,” “ thoughts,” or “ pic¬ 
tures.” I even protested to my 
excellent publisher and fellow tra¬ 
veller against preparing a single 
article for the pages of “ Good 
Words.” I went to visit Palestine, “the place of my fathers’ 
sepulchres;” and no one will be disposed to ask a reason for my 
undertaking such a journey. 

But there is something so fascinating about the East, that it is 
hardly possible for the traveller to resist the cacoethes scribendi, 
that he may in some measure share his enjoyment of it with others. 


Street View in Malta. 


B 



































2 


EASTWARD. 


In spite of tlie conviction, then, that nothing new can be written 
about the East by a hurried tourist, that all that one can say has 
doubtless been said far better by some other before, that only the 
scholar, the antiquary, or the artist can reveal new facts or new 
beauties, the impression still remains that we may be able to give 
some pleasure by telling, as by the fireside, what we saw and 
enjoyed, to the invalid or the weary man, who may be unable to 
digest “ sterner stuff.'’ I would respectfully ask such to accompany 
me Eastward. 

Let me inform those who have not “ Bradshaw ” by them, that 
Alexandria is the starting-point to Palestine for all travellers ap¬ 
proaching it from the west. This port may be reached by the 
admirable steamers of Mr. M’lver, from Liverpool, or by the 
Peninsular and Oriental Company’s steamers from Southampton, 
and a glimpse of Gibraltar be got en route. To those who enjoy a 
sea voyage, and to whom a few days’ extra time is of no conse¬ 
quence, this route is by far the easiest. The shortest sea passage 
is by Ancona, to which there is now a continuous line of railway 
from Turin. There is also communication twice a month from 
Marseilles to Alexandria by the first-rate steamers of the French 
Messacjeries Imperiales Company, as well as by those of the old 
and lavoui ite Peninsular and Oriental Company. The expense 
by either route is much the same, everything taken into account; 
peihaps, upon the whole, that by Marseilles is the cheapest, 
those, too, who have never been abroad may by this route get a 
glimpse of the Continent as they pass along. We, for example, 
left London on Wednesday morning, were all Thursday in Paris, 
left the same night, and reached Marseilles about one in the 
afternoon of Friday. This is little no doubt, yet the day in Paris 
and the general view of the country, including the picturesque 

towns of Nismes and Avignon, may be put in the balance against 
Gibraltar. 

We left Marseilles on the morning of the 20th of February, 1864, 














TO MALTA AND ALEXANDRIA. 


3 


in the somewhat old—and not in all respects singularly comfort¬ 
able—but yet sound ship Valetta, with as good a captain and 
officers as voyager could wish. It is a weakness of mine always to 
prefer a British ship to every other, especially when out of sound¬ 
ings. -There is something in the “ Aye, aye, sir ! ” which inspires 
a confidence that nothing uttered by a foreigner can do. This is 
of course “ provincial, but I don’t profess to be anything else. 

Ihe weather had nothing of the warm south in it; the air was 
sharp and chill. We had showers of snow and sleet, the hills 
were white, the skies dull as lead, and one looked forward to 
Egypt and Syria as to a comfortable fire, whatever other attraction 
they might possess. Soon after leaving the splendid docks of 
Marseilles, we sat down to a sumptuous breakfast, and, as it hap¬ 
pens in most sea voyages, the passengers met together for the first 
time,—and in very many cases for the last. How important is the 
prospect of a voyage, even of a week, to those who have to “ go 
down to the sea in ships; ” but to none on board of this or any 
vessel afloat, was it more momentous than to a respected member 
of our party. Poor fellow ! He was a victim ; a down-trodden, 
crushed, silent, and miserable slave to the demon of sea-sickness. 
That remorseless ocean monster shook him, bound him, laid him 
prostrate, beat every bone in his body, knotted every muscle, tore 
every nerve, tortured him, turned him inside out, yet without a 
word of remonstrance from him, except a feeble groan, or look of 
agony from glazed eyes which had hardly an atom of expression to 
respond to the truly kind look of Morris the steward. But at this 
first breakfast table my friend was all alive and energetic; the 
power of the land was still upon him, for the ship was steady as a 
rock, and the beat of her powerful paddles was hardly echoed by 
the glasses upon the table. “ How fortunate we are,” “ What a 
calm day,” “ I hope it will continue so,” “ No one could be sick 
with such weather,” “ We may have it so all the way to Alex¬ 
andria”—these were the pleasing reflections from the different 

















4 


EASTWARD. 


smiling, laughing, contented passengers, male and female, military 
and mercantile, Jew and Gentile, French, German, and English, 
who surrounded the table. Yet these pleasant hopes were most 
unexpectedly interrupted by an unaccountable lurch of the vessel, 
succeeded by another, and accompanied by the sharp scream of 
the wind as it struck the rigging, its obedient harp-strings. I 
suggested to my friend the prudence of lying down while I went 
to ascertain the cause of this very strange commotion. He did 
so, promising to join me in a few minutes. Alas ! it was nearly 
a week ere he cared for anything upon earth, or rather upon 
sea, for all upon the quiet and solid earth seemed to him a ter~ 
restrial paradise, which he would never revisit, unless for burial, il 
even for that. 

I shall never forget the scene which presented itself when I 
went on deck. We had been caught by a gale, which very rapidly 
increased to a hurricane. Now although, as the old song says, 

“ I've cross’d the great Atlantic, 

And weathered many a breeze, 

Besides being up the Baltic 
And divers other seas,” 

yet I never before encountered a hurricane; and it is well worth 
seeing, for once at least. The waves at first seemed taken all 
aback, as if suddenly roused from their beds, without having time 
to dress themselves and appear with that solemn dignity before 
the world which becomes an ocean-sea. They rose with awful bulk 
of green water, and swelled up until, curling their monstrous heads, 
with a thundering and defiant roar they sank again, only to gather 
strength to come nearer and nearer, as if to send the vessel down 
with one thud to the lowest abyss. Again the wind seized them 
with a hissing yell, as if in a passion, and tore them to pieces when 
they presumed to rise, scattering them into an atmosphere of the 
finest snowdrift, and, mingling air and water in one white seething 
plain, seemed to unite sea and sky in a drizzle of Hying mist. One 


























TO MALTA AND ALEXANDRIA. 


of the most remarkable effects of the wind upon the sea was along 
an ugly range of precipices to leeward. The waves, according to 
the calculations of one of the officers, were driven up the precipice 
for about 120 feet, but, owing to the force of the wind, were unable 
to fall back with all their volume, so that the foam seemed to 
incrust the rock like ice, and to blow as smoke over the summit. 
The watch could not stand on the forecastle, which seemed buried 
in spray. The officers held on upon the gangway, their faces well 
“ cured” with “ the salt sea faeme.” We bored our way till the 
afternoon through all this turmoil with that calm and resolute 
bravery which our steam-engine personified, as it worked away 
steadily with its giant arms, aided by regularly supplied drops 
of oil. 

The wind blew as it would blow its last. “ Is it possible,” I 
asked our gallant little captain, “that it could blow stronger?” 
“ I have never,” he replied, “ seen it blow so hard except in the 
China seas.” “ What if the engine give way ?” was the question 
suggested by me—who says I was uneasy ?—to the old and steady 
engineer, Mr. Allan, from Glasgow. But he would not entertain 
the suggestion. “ A better tool never was in a ship,” was his only 
reply, “ and for seven years she has never made a miss.” “ Thank 
you, Allan !” 

Notwithstanding the excitement of the hurricane and its intense 
interest, I was by no means disposed to complain when the Valetta 
ran for shelter—a most unusual occurrence. Fortunately Toulon 
happened to be the harbour of refuge. It was worth our while 
encountering the gale, to enjoy the unexpected pleasure of seeing 
this famous place. My chief associations with it, strange to say, 
were stories told me by “ the Old Lieutenant,” of Sir Samuel Hood 
and other worthies whose exploits were achieved here. The severe 
gale we had encountered told even upon this quiet nook. A brig 
which had broken from her moorings was being towed back to 
them by a tug ; large ships of war, with their topmasts struck, 






6 


EASTWARD. 


were rolling so that we coaid see their decks. We were not per¬ 
mitted to land, and could therefore only estimate the strength of 
the place by what we saw from our deck ; but judging from the 
batteries, which extend from the water’s edge to the mountain 
sides, Toulon is impregnable. It must be a beautiful place in 
summer, and highly picturesque, but on this day it looked cold and 
miserable in the extreme. 

The rest of our voyage to Malta was rather rough, but no 
special event disturbed it. My older readers may not care to hear 
of the following incident, but doubtless the children will. It is 
one very common in all voyages during stormy weather and when 
far from the coast. Several small birds were blown out of sight of 
land during the gale. They were so wearied as to be easily 
caught. One little lark was so pleased with the warmth of the 
hand that he sat down on it, burying his little cold feet in his 
feathers, and looking about with his bright eye, not in the least 
afraid, and as if feeling assured that he had been cast amongst 
kind people. These birds are always very thirsty, and drink 
with delight. In summer they sometimes remain on board for 
days, feeding upon flies, and in some cases they have been known 
to clear a cabin of cockroaches, a sort of ugly blackbeetle, and to 
get quite fat upon them. One beautiful lark we caught remained 
until we were passing close to the shore in the Straits of Boni- 
faccio. We there let him off, and he flew awajr to sing again in his 
own green fields; but another died, and was found in the morning 
in his cotton bed lying on his back, his little claws curled up to 
the sky. 

We reached Malta late on the night of the 23rd, and finding 
that the steamer was not to leave till three in the morning we 
resolved to go on shore. Most fortunately for us a friend on 
board had a friend in Malta, the kind-hearted Free Church minister, 
who came out to receive him and be his guide during the strange 
hours of midnight. All the world knows Malta, yet I would 
































\ 


V 






'VATVJtt 









































































































































































































































































































TO MALTA AND ALEXANDRIA. 


7 


not exchange my impressions of it, received during those silent 
watches, for the most accurate knowledge which could he obtained 
by daylight. Strange to say, I feel almost thankful that my stay 
was so short in this famous city of old knights and modern 
soldiers. I have no intention of turning to any gazetteer or 
history of the knights of Malta to get up a description of its 
harbours, batteries, or ancient history. Anyone wishing this sort 
of information may get it without going there. I am quite 
satisfied with what I learned from mv midnight walk, while 
everyone, the governor included, was in bed, except the sentries 
and a few policemen and houseless ragamuffins. The moon was 
shining “ with the heavens all bare every house revealed itself, 
not in the clearness of noonday, which would have been a defect, 
—few towns, and fewer men, being able to stand that sort of 
revelation,—but in the soft and subdued golden light of the full 
moon which blended wonderfully with the limestone of which the 
island is composed. We walked up streets by long flights of 
stairs, admired the balconies, and the innumerable bits of pic¬ 
turesque architecture and varied outline that everywhere met the 
eye, and seemed so tasteful when compared with the pasteboard 
rows of our prosaic streets, which are built by contract and 
squeezed into stupid shape by our city authorities, who seem to 
think that the “ orders ” of architecture mean all houses being 
alike, as policemen are. We soon reached the side of the town 
which overlooks the great harbour; and though I have lost all 
memory of the names, if I ever heard them (which I no doubt 
did), of forts, streets, palaces, batteries, yet I never can forget the 
impression made by what Joseph Hume used to call “the tottle 
of the whole.” Guided by our friend we wandered along battery 
upon battery, passed innumerable rows of big guns, which had 
pyramids of shot beside them, and which looked down white pre¬ 
cipices, as if watching the deep harbour which laved their base, 
and sorrowing that they had nothing to do. We saw forts—forts 














8 


EASTWARD. 


on this side, forts on the other side, forts everywhere, forts above 
us, and forts below us. We saw beneath us dark forms of line-of- 
battle ships, like giants asleep, but ready in a moment to wake 
up with their thunder. Yet we saw no signs of life in the silence 
of midnight except a few lights skimming across the deep black 
water below ; nor did we hear a sound except the song of the 
Maltese boatman who steered his gondola with its firefly lamp, 
and the tread of the sentinel as his bayonet gleamed in the moon¬ 
light, and the sudden question issued from his English voice, 
“Who goes there?” We stood beside noble palaces, formerly 
inhabited by the famous knights, evei'y ornament, every coat of 

arms, distinct and clear as by day ; and we thought-well, 

never mind our sentimentalism. We stood beside the statue of 
the great and good Lord Hastings, and traced his silent features 
between us and the sky, which revived many thoughts in me of 
my earliest and best friends. And thus we wandered until nearly 
three in the morning, in a sort of strange and mysterious dream¬ 
land ; and for aught that appeared, the Grand Master and all his 
knights still possessed the island, and might be seen on the 
morrow’s morn,—if we were disposed to wait for them,—watching 
a fleet of infidel Moslems in the distance, come to disturb their 
peace and the peace of Europe, if not to destroy Christianity 

itself. And we thought-no matter, ye sturdy Protestants, 

what we thought of these fine fellows ! How thankful we were 
that all the shops were closed, where we might have been cheated 
by daylight; that priests, and friars, and nuns, and sea captains, 
and admirals, and all the puff and parade, were snoring in their 
nightcaps. They would have, beyond doubt, destroyed the pleasing 
illusion. After buying some delicious oranges from ever-wakeful 
boys, and bidding grateful farewell to our obliging guide, we 
returned to the 1 r ulettci full of thankfulness for our midnight 
visit to Malta. We never wish to see it again. We fear the 
daylight. 























TO MALTA AND ALEXANDRIA. 


9 


After leaving Malta we seemed to have entered another world. 
The sky was without a cloud ; the sea was unruffled hy the 
slightest breeze, and began to be coloured by that exquisite deep 
blue-like lapis lazuli which may be approached sometimes in our 
northern skies, but never in our northern seas. Nothing could 
be more beautiful than the play of the white foam as it flew from 
the ship’s bow, or from her paddles, and fell like white pearls 
upon the glassy surface. I was reminded of a similar effect at 
the Falls of Niagara, produced by the sparkling foam as it ran up 
the smooth surface of the deep water, which like a huge green 
wheel of ocean rolled over the Table Rock. In both cases, the 
contrast was beautiful in the extreme,—between the pure white 
and the indigo blue in the one instance, and the emerald sea- 
green in the other. 

During our short voyage to Alexandria shoals of dolphins rose 
alongside of us, while once or twice Hying fish were seen skimming 
the surface with silvery wings,—both features significant of a 
change in our latitude. Strange to say, our engine, which had 
stood so well throughout the hurricane, broke down in the calm 
on two occasions. My worthy friend the engineer accounted for 
this by saying “ that it was entirely owing to the number of 
ministers on board, and nothing else. Nae engine,” he added, 
with emphasis, “ could staun five o’ ye ; the best machines are 
naething against ministers ! ” But making all allowance for our 
parson-power, the “good tool” had no doubt been wounded in 
the battle with the storm. 

One other little fact I must not omit to mention, as evidencing 
the distance to which fine substances can be wafted by the air. 
For two days, and when out of sight of land, though our course 
ran nearly parallel to Africa, the weather rigging of the ship was 
all brown with fine sand, which adhered to the tar. And this 
was only visible on the side of the ropes next the desert. 

And now for a few days we felt the perfect repose and benefit 

c 

















EASTWARD. 


io 


of a voyage. To one who, like myself, never suffers from nausea 
even, it is the most perfect rest. The busy world, we know, is 
getting on very well without us, and so we determine to get on 
without it. The postman’s knock belongs to another sphere of 
existence, and we hear it no more, except as in a feverish dream. 
A mighty gulf of deep water separates us from the world of 
letters, business, calls, meetings, appointments, committees, visits, 
and all like disturbers of selfish ease. We assume, being our¬ 
selves in robust health, that all our friends are in a like condition, 
and are pleased to think that they lament our absence, hope to 
hear from us by the next mail, and will be glad to have us home 
again ; while sometimes we cannot but regret, with a feeling 
which alarms our conscience, that we do not sufficiently respond 
to their anxieties. On ship-board, pleasure and necessity are one. 
We cannot help being idle. We may possibly exert ourselves 
to play draughts or backgammon, but not chess—that requires 
thought. To read anything is an act of condescension, and no 
one thinks that his duty. In fact, the word “ duty ” seems con¬ 
fined to the officers and crew, including the steward. Those 
portions, too, of our life which on land are made subordinate to 
more important things, such as our meals and sleep, at sea are 
made the leading events of the day. We retire at any hour to 
our cabin, sleep, read, meditate, as we please, and as long as we 
please. No one accuses us of sloth, and asks us to rise and take 
“ a constitutional.” No one asks if we are ill—that is charitably 
taken for granted; the majority are surprised if we are well, and 
envy us. We are, moreover, not expected to speak to any one, 
and if words are exchanged they are understood, upon honour, 
to be mere contributions to general happiness. The brain and 
memory empty themselves so completely of all that has troubled 
or occupied them during previous periods of existence, that we 
seem to begin life again as children, and to be amused with the 
most passing trifles. Sensible men who, a few weeks or even 




TO MALTA AND ALEXANDRIA. 


11 


days before, were occupied with important affairs of Church or 
State, become interested in the cow on board, feel her horns, 
scratch the back of her ears; and beg for some crumbs of bread 
to feed the chickens. A dog on board becomes an institution. 
A sea-bird attracts every eye ; while a ship looming on the 
horizon makes all, who can stand, come on deck and watch the 
approaching wonder, as the Ancient Mariner watched the mys¬ 
terious sail. Who, on shore, ever thinks of the longitude or 
latitude of his house ? Not one in fifty believes that it has 
either one or other; but at sea our position is known every day 
at twelve o’clock ; and the spot upon the earth’s surface which we 
at that moment occupy becomes a matter of serious speculation 
until dinner-time. 

We beseech wearied men never to visit Paris, to be baked 
on the Boulevards, sick of the Rue Rivoli, have their digestion 
destroyed by mushrooms and cockscombs at the Trois Freres; 
nor to be pestered by guides, ropes, ladders, mules, or alpen¬ 
stocks, in walking across slippery glaciers, or down savage ravines 
in Switzerland ; nor to be distracted by “ Murray ” in wandering 
from gallei'y to gallery, or from church to church in Italy;—but 
to launch upon the deep, get out of sight of land, and have their 
brains thoroughly invigorated by fresh air and salt-water. 

By the kind and cordial permission of the captain, I had a 
religious service with the men in the forecastle, as my custom 
has ever been when on a voyage. It had little formality in it: 
some were in their hammocks, most were seated around on 
the “ bunkers,” and were dimly visible under the low deck, with 
the feeble lights. There is a reality in this easy and familiar 
way of addressing Jack, which is much more likely to do him 
good than the regular assemblage with Sunday dress in the cabin, 
when probably a sermon is read for the benefit of the educated 
passengers, which the crew take for granted is not expected to be 
understood by any one below the purser. In such cases they 
















12 


EASTWARD. 


attend worship for the same reason that they wash the decks or 
reef topsails,—because they are “ ordered.” I would therefore 
earnestly beg of my respected brethren in the ministry to re¬ 
member “ poor Jack ” when at sea, and never to imagine that 
a sailor “cares for none of these things.” Few audiences are 
more attentive, more willing to learn, or more grateful for so 
small a kindness. We are apt to forget what these men endure 
for our sakes—what sacrifices are required by the necessities of 
their occupation,—what their sore temptations, and few advan¬ 
tages. The least we can do, when an opportunity offers itself, is 
to speak to them as to brethren, and to tell them of the love of 
a common Father and Saviour; and we know not when the seed 
thus cast upon the waters may spring up. It may be in the 
hospital among strangers, or when pacing the deck at midnight, 
or when clinging to a plank for life, or even when going down 
“ with all hands.” 

On the forenoon of Saturday, the 27th, we sighted Alexandria. 

The first sign of nearing a new country from the sea, is generally 
the pilot-boat and its crew. With what interest do we look over 
the side of the ship, and watch the dresses and countenances of 
the first specimens of the tribe among whom we are to pitch our 
tents for a time ! The boat, with a flag in its bow, which pulled 
out to meet us from Alexandria, had a crew which were a fit 
introduction to the East, with their rough comfortable brown boat- 
coats and hoods, their petticoat trousers, swarthy faces, and shining 
teeth. And as for “ Master George ” himself, the Egyptian pilot, 
as he stepped up the gangway to shake hands with his old friends, 
and take charge of the ship, he was, from toe to turban, a perfect 
study for an artist. 

There is nothing at all remarkable in the view of Alexandria 
from the sea. Notwithstanding the white palace, the old summer¬ 
house of the Pasha, and other distinguished buildings, which are 
sure to be pointed out, the town looks like a long horizontal streak 

























SCENE ON THE QUAY AT ALEXANDRIA ON THE ARRIVAL OF A STEAME 



















































TO MALTA AND ALEXANDRIA. 


of whitewash, mingled with brown, and crossed perpendicularly 
with the sharp lines of ships’ masts. 

But a scene well worth noticing was the crowd of boats that 
pressed around the ship to convey passengers to the shore. 
Imagine thirty or forty such, with their nondescript crews, 
crowding to the ship’s side, every man on board of them appearing 
in a towering passion, and yelling as if in the agony of despair, 
and, with outstretched hands and Hashing eyes, pouring forth a 
stream of guttural Arabic, that seemed to the ear to be a whole 
dictionary of imprecations without a pause, and as far as one 
could judge, without a motive, unless it were that they took us for 
lost spirits claimable by the greatest demon. The noise is great 
when landing from a Highland steamer, and when Highland 
boatmen, the scum of the port, are contending for passengers or 
luggage. But without defending the Gaelic as mellifluous, or the 
Highlanders as types of meekness, on such an occasion, yet in 
vehemence of gesticulation, in genuine power of lip and lung to 
fill the air with a roar of incomprehensible exclamations, nothing 
on earth, so long as the human body retains its present arrange¬ 
ment of muscles and nervous vitality, can surpass the Egyptians 
and their language. 

If the Pyramids were built, as some allege they were, to preserve 
the inch as a measure of length for the world, why, should not the 
Sphinx have been raised, with her calm eye, dignified face, and 
sweet smile, even now breaking through her ruins like sunlight 
through the crags, to be an everlasting rebuke to Eastern rage, 
and a lesson in stone exhorting to silence ? 

My first day in the East stands alone in my memory, unap¬ 
proached by all I have ever seen. It excited feelings of novelty 
and wonder which I fear can never again be produced. I had 
expected very little from Alexandria, and thought of it only as a 
place of merchandise, notorious for donkeys, donkey-boys, and 
Pompey’s Pillar. But as soon as I landed, I realised at once the 

















14 


EASTWARD. 


presence of a totally different world of human beings from any I 
had seen before. The charm and fascination consisted in the 
total difference in every respect between East and West. 

Passing through the utter chaos, dilapidation, and confusion 
of the custom-house, and clambering over, as we best could, the 
innumerable bales of cotton, under the protection of the blue 
cloudless heavens,—winding our way among goods of every descrip¬ 
tion, and between barrels and hampers, amid the cries and noise 
of the mixed multitude who crowded the wharves, filled the boats, 
and offered themselves as porters, guides, and whatever else could 
command a backsheesh, we reached the outskirts of the custom¬ 
house, passed the officers, entered the bazaar, and had time to look 
around. 

The first impression made upon a European is, as I have said, 
that he has never seen anything at all like it. The shops, with 
various kinds of goods displayed behind a man who is seated cross- 
legged, willing to sell them apparently as a favour, hardly attract 
the eye any more than open cupboards would do. But the persons 
who crowd along the narrow lane—only look at them ! They are 
manifestly from all parts of the earth—Greeks, Turks, Jews, 
Armenians, Hindoos, Copts, Arabs, Nubians, Albanians, drunken 
Jack Tars, English officers on the way to or from India, &c. With 
the exception of the Europeans, each man appears in his own 
distinct individuality of face and raiment. In America there is a 
Yankee type everywhere visible, with lips, nose, cheeks, and hair, 
by no means romantic, though business-like ; in Russia there is a 
Muscovite type, which admits of little variety; and everywhere, 
from the Mississippi to the Volga, there is a certain uniformity of 
face, or at all events of dress ; coats and trousers with buttons, long 
tails or short tails, hats or caps,—a sort of Caucasian respectability. 
But here, each face seems to stand alone. There are eyes and 
foi'eheads, noses and beards, colours of skin, peculiarities of 
expression—the sly, the dignified, the rascally, the ignorant, the 














TO MALTA AND ALEXANDRIA. 


1 5 


savage, the refined, the contented, the miserable,—giving each face 
its own distinct place in the globe. And there is, if possible, a 
greater variety in costume. Every man seems to have studied 
his own taste, or his own whim, or, possibly, his own religion, in 
the shape, colour, and number of his garments. The jackets, the 
pelisses or dressing-gowns, the waistcoats, the petticoats, the 
inexpressibles, the sashes, the turbans, the headgear, each and all 
are different in colour and in details of arrangement. The arms, 
whether dirk or dagger, single pistols or half a dozen, modern or 
as old as the invention of gunpowder, sword, gun, or spear— 
each has its own peculiar form and arrangement, so that every 
Eastern has to a Western a novelty and picturesqueness that is 
indescribable. And the motley crowd presses along: fat, con¬ 
tented, oily Greek merchants, or majestic Turks, on fine horses 
splendidly caparisoned, or on aristocratic donkeys, who would 
despise to acknowledge as of the same race the miserable creatures 
who bray in our coal-carts; bare-legged donkey boys, driving their 
more plebeian animals before them ; Arabs from the desert, with 
long guns and gipsy-like coverings, stalking on in silence; 
beggars, such as one sees in the pictures of the old masters— 
verily “ poor and needy, blind and naked; ” insane persons, with 
idiotic look, and a few rags covering their bronzed bodies, seeking 
alms ; Greek priests, Coptic priests, and Latin priests; doctors of 
divinity and dervishes ; little dumpy women with their peculiar 
waddling gait, wrapt in white muslin sheets, their eyes only 
visible; and soaring over all this strange throng are strings of 
camels, lank and lean, so patient-looking and submissive, pacing 
on under their loads of cotton, with bent heads and sleepy eyes, 
their odd-looking drivers mounted high above, rocking with that 
peculiar motion which the camel’s pace produces—all this, and 
infinitely more, formed a scene that looked like a fancy fair got 
up for the amusement of strangers. 

Before leaving the bazaar, let us look into this coffee-shop open 
















i6 


EASTWARD. 


from the street. There is no ornament of any kind in it, nor does 
it aim at the magnificence and glitter seen in our whisky and 
gin-shops at home—such palaces being unknown in the East. It 
is of the humblest description, having no ornament of any kind 
but a few mats on its floor and upon its raised dais. Capital is 
not required,—a little charcoal, a coffee-pot, and some coffee 
forming the whole stock in trade. Odd-looking, turbaned men, 
smoking their nargiles, are each a picture of quiet contentment. 
But the chief attraction to me was a blind man, who sat cross- 
legged on the dais, with a rude sort of fiddle, on which he played 
a monotonous accompaniment to his chant, resting perpendicularly 
on his knee. He was apparently an improvisatore, who had to 
think for a little time before composing his verse, or more pro¬ 
bably he was only a reciter of old Arab poems. While chanting, 
and scraping on the fiddle, there was a smile of good humour on 
his face. No sooner were two or three lines repeated, than his 
audience exhibited the greatest satisfaction, and turned their eyes 
to a young man who sat on the opposite dais, quietly smoking,—■ 
a competitor, apparently, with the blind musician and ballad- 
singer. He seemed sometimes puzzled for a moment, as he blew 
a few rapid whiffs from his pipe, while the blind man listened with 
the greatest attention. But no sooner was his response given than 
a general movement was visible among the auditors, who turned 
to the blind minstrel as if saying, “ Match that, old fellow, if you 
can ! ” 

Along the whole bazaar there were little episodes of this sort, 
presenting features of social life totally different from our own. 
But my excellent friend the missionary of the Church of Scotland 
at Alexandria, who had come to meet us, would not permit me to 
remain longer in the bazaar. He laughed heartily at my enthu¬ 
siasm ; assuring me that I would think nothing of all this by the 
time I reached Damascus, and begged I would come away, as we 
must have a drive and see a few sights before dinner ; although, 
















TO MALTA AND ALEXANDRIA. 


17 


to tell the truth, I was much more pleased with the sort of sights 
around me than the prospect of beholding even Pompey’s Pillar. 
Obeying orders, we were soon in the square or long parallelogram 
which forms the respectable part of the town and where the chief 
hotels are situated; but it had no more interest for me than 
Euston Square. Not so the drive. Soon after leaving the hotel 
we were again in the East, with its dust, poverty, picturesqueness, 
and confusion. We visited an old Greek church, which four years 
ago had been excavated out of a mass of ddbris. We gazed with 
interest upon its walls dimly frescoed with Christian subjects, and 
looked into its dark burial vaults, and thought of the Alexandrian 
school, and of those who had worshipped probably more than a 
thousand years ago in this old edifice. We passed lines of camel- 
hair tents perched upon a rising ground and occupied by the 
Bedouin, who had come from the desert perhaps to buy or to sell; 
we passed the brown clay huts of the Fellaheen, with their yelling 
dogs and naked children ; we passed crowds of donkeys bearing 
water-skins, resembling black pigs that had been drowned and 
were oozing with water; we saw with delight that feature of the 
East—groves of palms (needing no glass to cover them) drooping 
their feathered heads in the sunny sky; we stood where many 
generations had stood before, beneath what is called Pompey’s 
Pillar, and repeated the speculations of past ages as to how it could 
have been erected there, what a glorious portico that must have 
been of which it had formed a unit, and what a magnificent 
temple it must have adorned. We then returned to the square 
from which we had started, feeling more and more that we were in 
a new world. 

One or two other sights added to our enjoyment of this first day 
in the East. One was a bare-legged syce wdth silver-headed cane, 
who flew along, like an ostrich, to clear the way for the carriage of 
his noble master and mistress, and to announce their august 

presence, while they reclined in their handsome chariot, driven by 

n 

















i8 


EASTWARD. 


a Nubian charioteer, with comfortable satisfaction in their look, 
such as their Jewish ancestors manifested when, in the same 
country long ago, they enjoyed leeks and garlic, wishing for little 
better. Another sight was a funeral, in which the body was 
carried on a bier, preceded, as the custom is, by blind men, and 
followed by relatives, and women as hired mourners who did their 
duty well, giving loud lamentations for their money. And another 
was a marriage procession, in which the bridegroom was going for 
his bride with lanterns and wild Turkish screaming 1 instruments 
intended to represent music. And having seen all this we joined 
European society at the table d'hote at a late hour, and fell again 
into the old grooves of modern civilisation. 

After dinner, the conversation in the smoking-room turned 
upon the state of the country. There was an eager inquirer, with 
note-book in hand, who cross-questioned a few witnesses who were 
lolling about the window, and seemed disposed to answer his 
queries. The most ready replies were given by two persons, the 
one with a red nose, and the other with a squint. 

Inquirer asks “ What sort of a man is the Pasha ? ” He had 
been given to understand in London that he was a wide-awake, 
spirited gentleman, and thoroughly alive to the benefits of com¬ 
merce and free trade, &c. 

Red Nose blows two or three whiffs, and mutters “ A thorough 
scoundrel! ” Having gathered force to enlarge upon his text, he 
adds, “ You know, all ‘ the powers that be’ in this land are scoun¬ 
drels ; you cannot believe what anyone says. If he speaks the 
truth, it is either in mistake, or because he can make more by it 
than by lying. Bribery and corruption are the rule from the Pasha 
to the donkey-boy. The great king in the country, upstairs and 
downstairs and in my lady’s chamber, is backsheesh.” 

Silence reigns, and all the witnesses seem to agree on this point. 
Red Nose, encouraged, proceeds, being stimulated by the demand 
from Inquirer for an illustration. 
















TO MALTA AND ALEXANDRIA. 


•9 


“ Last year, this admirable Pasha—this eastern merchant—sold 
the first cotton he should bring into Alexandria, that is, his first 

crop, to the house of -and Co. at a certain price. Cotton in 

the meantime rose, and the Pasha sold his crop at an advanced 
price to another house ; and being challenged for his breach of 
contract, he defended himself upon the ground that his bargain 
was to sell the first cotton brought into Alexandria, whereas this 
had been delivered at the station outside of Alexandria ! ” 

Several declared this to be a fact beyond all dispute. 

“ The truth is,” remarked another party, “ nothing can exceed 
the ill-usage of the English by the Egyptian authorities. Our 
Consul, good man though he be, is too soft, too easy, and too much 
of a gentleman for them. It is not so with the French. A com¬ 
plaint made at the French consulate is immediately attended to, 
and the power of France is brought down upon the Turks at once. 
With the English Government, through their Consul, the Pasha is 
approached with ‘ Please be so good, your highness, as to consider 
this or that; ’ but with the French, the word of command goes 
forth, ‘ This must be done, sir ! or we shall pull down our flag.’ ” 

“ It is quite possible,” said the stranger, who was swinging in a 
chair, and whose face was nearly concealed by an immense beard, 
but who had a rather remarkable expression of intelligence—“ it 
is quite possible that there is a good deal of bullying on the part 
of both the great powers ; but I am also disposed to think that it 
the consuls would tell their side of the story, they could say some¬ 
thing about the bullying of the merchants also. I have been 
knocked about a good deal in foreign ports, though I neither buy 
nor sell, and I have everywhere noticed a habit on the part of 
many resident merchants, of great respectability too, and amongst 
none more than my countrymen the English, of treating the native 
powers with proud contempt, and of showing very little respect for 
their national laws, their feelings, or even religious customs, when 
these threaten to stand in the way of their becoming rich. Their 
















20 


EASTWARD. 


idea seemed to be that Providence had sent them abroad for the 
sole purpose of making money by good means, bad means, any 
means, but to make it by all means, and as rapidly as possible. 
If any difference arises between them and the native government, 
the poor Consul, forsooth, is told to poke up the British Lion, and 
make him. roar. And I have also noticed, that our Englishmen 
have, in many cases, far less respect for their religion, though it 
be true, than the heathen have for theirs, though it be false.” 

“ How so ? ” inquired the man with the squint, as if he had 
been in the habit of looking at a question from all sides. 

“ Why,” replied Long Beard, “ last Sunday, for example, I 
noticed many vessels from England loading and unloading, and I 
was told that this was done in some cases by command of the 
captains, and in others by the imperative orders of the com¬ 
mercial houses at home. This is the sort of way British 
Christians—British Protestants—often witness for their religion 
among Turks and heathen. No wonder missionaries often labour 
in vain, when they are practically opposed by so many careless 
professing Christians.” 

“ I ’ll bet a dollar that you are a missionary !” cried Red Nose, 
taking his cigar out of his mouth, and looking inquisitively towards 
the stranger. 

“ It is quite unnecessary to risk your money, for I gladly admit 
the fact.” 

“ Whew ! ” remarked Red Nose, mysteriously, “ that accounts 
for it! ” 

“ Accounts for what ? ” inquired the missionary. 

“Oh, nothing in particular!” replied Red Nose, breaking off. 
“ I don’t like disputes about religion.” 

After taking a short stroll to look at the stars, and observing 
that there was as yet no gas in Alexandria with all its progress 
and wealth, but that every one was obliged by law to cany a 
lantern, we retired to bed. 





















TO MALTA AND ALEXANDRIA. 


21 


We there met a few friends, whose acquaintance we had made 
in other portions of the civilised world ; but, fortunately, owing to 
the cool state of the weather, they did not press their company 
upon us so as to be numbered amongst the plagues of Egypt. 
It was many years since we had met the genuine mosquito ; but 
who that has once experienced it, can forget the nervous shock 
which runs through the body when his sharp “ ping ” is heard 
close to the ear as he blows his trumpet for battle ! To open the 
net curtains in order to drive a single enemy out, is probably to 
let a dozen in ; and once they are in, how difficult to discover 
the aerial imps ! and, when discovered, how difficult to get at 
them ! and when all this labour has been gone through, and the 
curtains are again tucked in, and every crevice closed, and the 
fortress made secure, and the hope indulged that the enemy hath 
fled, and the sweet feeling of unctuous repose again mesmerises 
soul and body—O horror to hear again at both ears “ ping, 
ping-ing! ” 

On this first night we did battle with intense energy and bravery 
against one intruder, and having slain him we were at peace ; but 
then came the barking of the dogs—those ceaseless serenaders of 
Eastern cities, of which more anon—and then sleep as deep as that 
of Cheops. 




















II. 


CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 


In writing about Alexandria, I hardly alluded to the state of 
Christian missions or of the Christian Church in that city. And 
should any reader look for information on these matters respecting 
any of the places we visited, he will, I am bound to say, be dis¬ 
appointed. But let not my silence be misinterpreted. It does not 
arise, verily, from forming a low estimate, but rather a high one, 
of the importance of such inquiries. For a long and somewhat 
varied experience has taught me the extreme difficulty of ascer¬ 
taining facts on a subject involving so many nice and delicate 
questions as the actual state of any mission, whether to Jew or 
Gentile. And having had, in the limited period to which I was 
compelled to confine my journey, neither the time nor opportunity 
necessary for inquiry, I feel that it would probably do more harm 
than good were I to give an opinion on such matters. It is 
possible that, with this explanation, I may record impressions 
made upon me by missionary operations, but I will not attempt to 
do more. I refuse to be cited by any party as a competent 
witness. 

Although Alexandria is, as I stated before, the starting- 
point for Palestine (our ultimate destination), yet who could be 
in it without seeing Cairo ? who could be in Cairo without 
seeing the Pyramids, and doing the usual round of travellers, 
since the Deluge, or thereabouts ? and who, being in Cairo, could 
omit a visit to the Bed Sea ? and who could be at the Red Sea, 
and not, if possible, visit Sinai ? Alas ! our itinerary ends, like 
that of Pharaoh, at the Bed Sea, for we could not follow Moses 














CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 


23 


further. Of course then we went to Cairo, and in a few pages 
of easy talk I will tell what we saw there. 

“ It is a moighty queer thing entirely, you may depend,” said an 
Irishman, “to get a railway ticket in Turkish or Arabic, I don’t 
know which. All I know is, that though I can read Irish I can’t 
read them characters like what a hen would write !” So we felt 
with Pat at the railway station of Alexandria, en route to Cairo. 
One’s ideas about Egypt are made somewhat prosaic by a railway. 
The familiar whistle, with its impatient screech, which has now 
lor years been a sort of European music, does not seem to har¬ 
monize with the Pharaohs. All the plastic power of fancy cannot 
cram Rameses the Great, or a member of any of the ten thousand 
dynasties, into a first class ; nor realize the possibility of Senna¬ 
cherib booking himself with his Assyrian staff for Memphis. It is 
not so, however, with the Jew, older than either. We saw many 
of them in the third class, and it seemed a quite natural position 
for this wandering and immortal tribe, who have had experience of 
every kind of locomotion, from the time they journeyed from 
Egypt to Canaan until the present day. 

The Delta, as a shoreless ocean of flat, rich land, presented no 
feature to us of greater interest than a similar expanse of culti¬ 
vated loam in England, Belgium, or anywhere else. But there 
ever and anon appeared those unmistakable signs of the old East 
which linked us to the past and belong not to modern Europe, 
on which we had now turned our backs. There were, of course, 
the graceful palms and other trees of Eastern foliage fringing 
the horizon and reposing in the calm delicious air. There were 
camels ploughing—a combination, by the way, which seemed to 
me as unnatural as a pig in harness ; for though the creature 
submitted with patient dignity to the drudgery, it had neverthe¬ 
less the look of an upper servant out of place—an old huntsman 
or whipper-in of a gallant pack driving a coal-cart. It was never 
intended that this great thirstless teetotal abstainer (for days even 













24 


EASTWARD. 


from water), who can pace with his noiseless feet, as if in thick 
stockings, through the desert, and encounter sandstorms and every 
sort of horror, wander among the rocks of Sinai, go a long pilgrim¬ 
age to Mecca, or enjoy Arabia Felix,—it was never intended that 
he should be reduced to do horse, donkey, or ox work, with the 
plough following his little brush of a tail across the Delta. The 
ox, if for no other reason than the base idolatries occasioned by his 
ancestors, should alone be doomed to drudgery like this. But we 
Avere told that 800,000 (yes, these are the figures) of homed cattle 
and horses had been cut off by murrain in Egypt; and that may 
account, though I don’t believe it fully does, for the transformation 
of the noble “ship of the desert” into a wretched plough tug of 
the Delta. 

As we passed along at a sIoav rate, yet by no means a smooth 
one, for a rougher railway Ave never travelled by, Ave saAv other 
symptoms of a very different life from what Ave had been accus¬ 
tomed to ;—such as the brown, dusty, crumbling, poverty-stricken, 
mud villages, built upon mounds of rubbish to keej) them out of 
the inundation, with their squalid hovels, whitewashed mosques, 
and odd-looking inhabitants—male and female ; and the pigeon 
villages, where those birds are reared in flocks for the market, 
their nests being clay pots built into a peculiarly-shaped second 
story with square Avails inclining inwards, like the old Egyptian 
buildings. We also passed half-naked men, SAvinging between 
them, with regular motion, a sort of basket by which they raised 
water from a ditch on a lower level to one on a higher, which dis¬ 
tributed it over the Avhole field. We also passed water-mills for 
the same purpose, turned by oxen, camels, or horses ; and fre¬ 
quently we passed Mussulmans at their devotions—ay, that is 
worth our pausing to notice once for all! 

How far Mahometans observe the orthodox number of times for 
devotion (five a day), I do not knoAV ; nor yet what proportion the 
devotional class bears to the indifferent. The fact, hoAvever, is 
















CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 


25 


patent to every one who travels in the East that prayer is offered 
up in every place—not in the mosque only, but in the field, on the 
ship’s deck, in the shop, and amidst the confusion and bustle of 
the railway station. When one sees for the first time a man in a 
public place or in the middle of a field suddenly drop down to the 
ground, one is apt to think that he has been seized by a fit, until 
the fact dawns, from the regularity of his motions, that he is per- 




Attitudes of the Mahometan during his Devotions. 


forming some duty. The worshipper goes about it in the most 
methodical manner. He spreads his carpet on the ground, if he 
has one, and then, as sailors would say, takes the bearings of 
Mecca, towards which he prays. This adjustment of his body, not 
to speak of his soul, is sometimes not easy, especially on ship¬ 
board, when the vessel’s course is constantly changing. In such 
cases he consults his fellow-believers, who will often gather round 
him, and suggest what in their opinion is the right point of the 
compass to which to direct his eyes. This being determined, he 

E 



























26 


EASTWARD. 


first of all, whether on land or on shore, stands upright with eyes 
open; then, after meditating for a moment, puts a thumb close to 
each ear, erects his fingers fan-like, and prays in silence. It is 
unnecessary to record all his subsequent acts—the bending doVm 
and touching the ground with his nose and forehead, the rising up 
and crossing his hands over his girdle, the kneeling, the sitting 
upon his heels, the rising up again, et cetera. Scrupulous care is 
taken as to the relationship of one foot to another, of the right 
hand to the left, as to the exact spot for the forehead and nose to 
touch the earth, with their distance from the soles of the feet; 
and many other “ bodily exercises.” The prayers, we were given 
to understand, are all of a stereotyped form, and consist of con¬ 
fessions, and short sentences acknowledging the greatness and 
attributes of Deity, with episodes regarding the authority of Ma¬ 
homet. What strikes one is the serious, abstracted countenance 
of the worshipper, which seems to be unaffected by anything 
taking place around him any more than if he were alone in the 
desert. It is reckoned a great sin to disturb a man at his 
devotions. 

One of the most reverential worshippers we saw, whose very 
beard seemed to be an Eastern religion embodied in hair, was an 
old man on the deck of an Austrian steamer. It was some weeks 
later in our tour, but we may do honour to the respected devotee 
now. One of our companions, always full of the “ charity which 
believeth all things,” directed my attention to the reverence of 
the man. Then began, as often happens in such cases, a dis¬ 
cussion regarding the different outward circumstances in which 
a real life of piety may exist and manifest itself, like light in the 
midst of darkness or like a plant growing under a stone, which 
ended with sundry speculations as to the mysterious connection 
between devoteeism and devilry—mere forms of religion without 
religion itself. We all agreed, however, that this person seemed 
to be of the true sort, sincere and honest, though ignorant. So 















CAIRQ AND THE PYRAMIDS. 


2 7 


when he rose from his knees we were disposed to be very civil 
to him, and lent him a binocular glass to study the landscape, 
with which he was greatly delighted. But the good old man 
stole the glass, and it was only recovered after a search by the 
steward in his travelling bundle, where it was wrapped up in an 
old sheepskin. He seemed quite aware of the theft, and skulked 
off, not without fear of subsequent punishment, which, however, 
was not inflicted. He was a thorough type of formalism. 

But to return to our railway journey. By far the most notable 
objects we saw before reaching Cairo were two grey triangles rising 
over some palms to the south, and piercing, wedge-like, the blue 
sky : they were the Pyramids. We reached Cairo in the evening, 
in time to enjoy a golden sunset with burnished clouds rising from 
the horizon of the Deha to the zenith. Except in peculiar circum¬ 
stances, such as the presence of snowy peaks or masses of ice to 
reflect the light, sunsets increase in splendour with an advance to 
the north. Those of St. Petersburg are unsurpassed. The finest 
I ever saw at Venice even, were far inferior to them in brilliancy 
and variety of colour. 

We went of course to Shepherd’s Hotel. To get clear of the 
railway terminus, however, was by no means easy. The crush of 
donkey-boys, omnibuses, carriages, and camels, with the crowd of 
nondescript characters, raised such a storm of sound and such 
clouds of dust and of doubt, as made the “situation” for a moment 
bewildering. But once in the hotel, we are again in Europe. 

“ Shepherd’s ” is a huge barrack in an open space, with trees 
and gardens in front. No position could be more agreeable. It 
has before the door an elevated verandah, approached by a few 
steps on each side, and forming quite a drawing-room tent in the 
open air. Within the hotel is a handsome dining-hall, and in the 
stories above there are broad stone-flagged passages or corridors, 
which seem to be infinite, and to go round the world ; and opening 
from these corridors are bedrooms numerous enough to accommo- 













28 


EASTWARD. 


date all travellers, with room to spare for mosquitoes and other more 
permanent lodgers, though these were by no means troublesome. 

The verandah at Shepherd’s had its own story to tell, and any 
man could read it. It is the Isthmus of Suez on a small scale— 
a traveller’s link between India and Europe, with the addition of a 
few square yards which serve as a platform to connect the invalid 
homes of the cold north with the heating breath of the genial 
south. Here one meets young lads who have passed their exa¬ 
mination at Addiscombe, dressed up a la mode, from canvas 
shoes to cambric-covered hats. They are, upon the whole, nice, 
clean-looking fellows, with a gentlemanly bearing about them, and 
an innocent puppyism, pipe included, which ceases in the eye of 
charity to be offensive on the verge of the real difficulties in life, 
which one knows they are about to encounter. Who would refuse 
a pipe or a snuff to a man before his going into battle ? But what 
care these boys for leaving home! “Aint it jolly?” No! my 
boys; I know better, “ it aint jolly,” but, as you would say, 
“ seedy.” In spite of all your pluck, I know you have just written 
to your fathers or mothers with a tear which you would be ashamed 
to confess, hating to be thought “ muffs.” You have forced your¬ 
selves to declare, for their sakes, “how very happy you are yet 
you would give worlds to be back again for an hour even at home ; 
and would hug the old dog, and almost kiss the old butler. I ’ll 
wager that merry lad with blue eyes and fair hair, has written to 
his sister Charlotte, who is watching for the mail, telling her to 
keep up her heart, for he will very soon be able to return on leave. 
And he has sent a single line to Jack, telling him that he may 
have the use of all his bats and guns, and fishing-rods, and what¬ 
ever he has left behind him ; for though he had his little tiffs with 
Jack at home, Jack, in spite of his this or that, seems now perfec¬ 
tion in his brother’s memory. And the lad also begs to be remem¬ 
bered, in a quiet, confidential way, to a certain young lady whom 
he is ashamed to name, but whom he verily believes will never 













CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 


29 


marry another, but wait his return from India ! God bless the 
boys ! and bring them out of fever and gun-sbot wounds to the 
old folks at borne. 

Meeting these fresh boys from the West arc worn-out, sallow* 
complexioned veterans returning from the East. Among them 
are men whose fame is associated only with the dangers of sport 
with tigers and wild boars, or with the gaieties of the station. 
But just as likely among those quiet-looking gentlemen may be 
more than one who has governed a province as large as England, 
and been a king in the East, and been almost worshipped by wild 
tribes whom he has judged in righteousness and ruled with cle* 
mency. And they are returning to a country where old friends, 
who parted from them full of life and hope, are long ago buried ; 
and they will visit “ the old home ” no more, for it is in the hands 
of strangers ; while such of them as are bachelors will henceforth 
be frequenters of Oriental clubs, and be known as “ old Indians,” 
who are supposed to be peculiar and crotchety. There are few 
nobler gentlemen on earth, after all, than these same “ old In* 
dians ! ” Look at those two fine specimens with pith hats, brown 
faces, and long grey moustaches ! They are very silent, and look 
sometimes as if very sulky ; but their hearts are sound, though 
their livers are the reverse ; and I respect even their growls, that 
seem to me like harmless thunder, without lightning, after a long 
sultry day. 

Slowly swinging in that easy-chair is a young man with a pale 
face and hard cough, while a meek, sweet-looking young woman— 
his sister, evidently-—is reading to him. Near to them is an 
elderly man, equally feeble, with daughters, as angels, ministering 
to him. How one sees home friends perusing the letters from 
such groups, telling their anxious friends that they are “ much 
better,” and begging the mother, or sister, or children, to “ hope 
for the best,” for “ Egypt is such a good climate, and James, or 
papa, or sister Mary, are so good and patient.” Health to them ! 













30 


EASTWARD. 


Along with those are other sheep in this “Shepherd’s” fold— 
men of cotton and men of iron, who possibly may be sheep only in 
their clothing, with a little patch of wolf-skin under it, at least 
when having to deal with the Pasha ; men of travel too, who have 
been poking through every part of creation, and whose tents are 
all pitched under the trees opposite the hotel, as they intend to 
start on a journey to Sinai, or whose boat is ready to proceed to 
Luxor and the Cataracts; Americans of course too, from the North 
and South, and clergy from the same western land with silk waist¬ 
coats and immense clerical respectability ; and clergy besides from 
all lands, some dressed as if descended from the pulpit, and some 
as if they had never entered it. 

We have some things to see in Cairo, but we must in the first 
place “ do ” the Pyramids, and pay our respects to these old mys¬ 
terious piles of stone in the desert which people were wondering 
at before Abraham was born. 

The donkey boys who gather around Shepherd’s hotel, and seem 
to be there day and night, make a rush at every stranger who 
gives any sign of going out to see the sights. The moment 
one descends the steps, he has a confused impression of a 
crowd of round, black faces, mixed with asses’ heads; while 
from all sides proceed shouts and screams of “ Yery fine donkey,” 
“ This donkey be Yankee Doodle,” “ Dan Tucker,” “ Jem Crow,” 
“ Snooks,” “ Billy Taylor,” “ Jack and Gill,” or some other 
name suitable to the supposed nationality or taste of the person 
besieged. 

Mounted on very good donkeys, selected by a nice lad named 
Hassan, a well-known hanger-on at the hotel, and one of John 
Bull’s “ rascals, sir! ” we set off for the Pyramids. My donkey 
was small and strong, but in the saddle I saw nothing of him 
except his ears. The ride at first is through the scattered suburbs 
of Cairo. Passing through these we came to a mound of rubbish 
which, as I was informed, marked the Babylon of Egypt. We 












CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 


3' 


shortly after reached the bank of the old river, which swept swiftly 
on with its brown muddy-looking water. 



Map of the Pyramid Field in Egypt. 


The first view of the Nile here was to me singularly enjoyable. 
Indeed the first view of a great historical river is always most 







































32 


EASTWARD. 


interesting. It is one of those features of a country which is as 
unchangeable as the mountains, and is always associated with its 
history as the permanent highway of all generations, requiring no 
repair and incapable of decay. And here was the Nile! It is 
one of the locks of snowy hair on the old head of the world. 
Reminiscences began to crowd upon the mind, from Moses to 
Captain Speke; and one ever and anon wished to convince himself 
of the fact that this was really the ancient river of history. Yet 
all the objects which met the eye and filled in the view were 
appropriate. There were picturesque boats and palm-trees on the 
further shore, and over them were the grey Pyramids rearing their 
heads a few miles off. What more could we ask to make up a 
real Egyptian landscape in harmony with one’s ideal ? 

After crossing the ferry and traversing a flat plain on the 
western shore, with villages and groves of palm-trees, we reached 
at last an open space with nothing between us and the Pyramids. 
The first thing which strikes one is, not their size, for that cannot 
be measured by the eye, but the high platform on which they 
stand. It is about 130 feet above the level of the green flat of the 
Delta, and in the midst of a pure sandy desert. “ I never thought 
they were among the sand or so high up : did you ? ” “I thought 
they would have looked far larger: did not you?” “Where in 
the world is the Sphinx ? ” “ There she is ! ” “ What! that little 

round ball rising above the sand ? ” These are the sort of ques¬ 
tions or replies which one hears,' if anything be spoken at all, as 
he moves towards those venerable mounds. 

We found the strip of land which separates the Pyramids from 
the green valley to be much broader than it at first seemed. It 
was thus well on in the day when we reached our destination, and 
the heat was consequently greater than we had made up our minds 
for. We made for the Sphinx first, and went round and round 
her. She appeared like a huge boulder rising out of the sand. I 
did all in my power to realise the calm majesty, the dignitv, 











. 



VIEW OF THE PYRAMIDS, ON APPROACHING THEM FROM THE PLAIN. 














































































































































































































































































CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 


33 


serenity, et cetera, of that strange creature’s expression ; but I 
gave it up in despair. She seemed to me to be an Egyptian Mrs. 
Courady, whom no power could invest with beauty. I envy those 
who can enjoy her smiles. She may have been a theological 
Venus in the days of the patriarchs; but a most gigantic small¬ 
pox from the battering rams of Cambyses, or the fierce anger of 
some invader, has destroyed the smoothness of her skin. I regret 
my insensibility to her charms, but I can’t help it. She is still a 
riddle to me. 

We also visited here a tomb or temple, I forget which, called 
“ Campbell’s,” in honour of my excellent cousin, Colonel Peter 
Campbell of Duntroon (how we Highlanders cling to consulship 
when it is respectable!), once consul in Egypt. It is buried in 
sand, except where the descent into its interior has been cleared. 
The huge stones of beautifully polished granite with which it is 
formed throughout, and which are so exquisitely fitted into each 
other, are very striking. There are two rows of granite pillars 
about twenty feet high. Some of the smooth blocks of granite in 
the wall are thirteen feet long, by five broad, and four thick. 
Travellers who have visited the great temples of the Nile would 
overlook such a small affair as this ; but compared with our Euro¬ 
pean buildings or modern Egyptian ones, it is Cyclopean, and 
made us feel that 

“ They dreamt not of a perishable home 
Who thus could build.” 

The nearer we approached the Great Pyramid, the more it rose 
upon us as a revelation of majesty and power. When it was pro¬ 
posed to me to ascend it, I agreed as a matter of course ; and when 
one of our party kindly hinted at the difficulty, I looked up to the 
artificial molehill, and swaggering about my exploits on Highland 
and Swiss mountains, I expanded my chest, drew myself upright, 
and pitied the scepticism of my fellow-traveller. The offer of the 

F 








34 


EASTWARD. 


Arabs to help me up, I rejected with a smile of quiet assurance 
and contempt. Walking along the base of the structure, which 
seemed interminable, we got upon the first ledge, and began the 
ascent. Half-a-dozen bare-armed, lightly-clad, dark-complexioned, 
white-teethed children of the desert surrounded me—measuring 
me with their eyes, and jabbering irreverently in Arabic, about my 
size, I believe : but they ended by volunteering their assistance. 
Their speech was interlarded with the one word, which constantly 
occurs, and forms an important portion of the language of Modern 
Egypt and Canaan— backsheesh. I begged them courteously to 
leave me : and with an elasticity remarkable to no one but myself 
I mounted the first step. Having done so, I felt entitled to pause 
and breathe; for this first step seemed to be a five-feet wall of 
limestone. To my amazement I found another before me, and 
another, and another, each of which I climbed, with the assistance, 
1 confess, of the Arabs—two before and three behind—but with a 
constantly diminishing sense of strength, and an increasing anxiety 
to know when I should reach those short, easy steps which I had 
been gazing at from below. I was told that the steps to the sum¬ 
mit were all like those I had passed, but I was also told not to be 
discouraged thereby, as, by hard work, I should be a good way up 
in half-an-hour ; and once up I could rest, so as to be fit for the 
descent, which after all was the real difficulty ! I gazed up to 
a series of about 200 stone walls, which, after reaching to an eleva¬ 
tion of 120 feet higher than the ball of St. Paul’s, were lost at last 
in the blue sky, and I looked down half-dizzy to the base beneath 
me. Hie next wall above me was somewhere about my chest or 
chin : So meditating upon the vanity of human wishes, upon the 
loss to my parish (so argued the flesh) by a vacancy, upon the 
inherent excellence of humility, the folly of pride and of sinful 
ambition, I then, in a subdued but firm tone, declared that no 
aiguments with which I was then acquainted would induce me to 
go a ) aid higher. I pleaded principle, but strengthened my con- 













CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 


* 35 


victions by pointing to the burning sun and the absence of a 
ladder. Bidding therefore farewell to my companions, who went 
up those giant stairs, I begged my clamorous guides, who clung 
around, to leave me until they returned. The obvious terror of 
the Arabs was that they would lose their pay; but I mustered 
breath enough to say in the blandest manner, “ Beloved friends 
and fellow-labourers! sons of the desert ! followers of the false 
prophet! leave me ! go round the corner. I wish to meditate upon 
the past: depart! ” And then I emphatically added, “ Backsheesh, 
backsheesh, backsheesh! Yes!’’ They seemed to understand the 
latter part of my address, held up their fingers and responded, 
“ Backsheesh ? yes ! ” I bowed, “ Good ! ” They replied, “ We are 
satisfied ! ” and vanished. And so they left me some twenty steps 
up the Pyramid, and looking towards Ethiopia and the sources of 
the Nile. I was thankful for the repose. One had time to take 
in the scene in quiet, and to get a whiff from the inexhaustible 
past in that wondrous spot. The Arabs away, everything was 
calm as the grave, except for the howls of a wandering jackal that, 
like a speck, was trotting away over the tawny sand beneath me. 

As to what one’s thoughts are in such a place, I believe they 
are very different from those which one would anticipate, or 
which are suggested by memory in seclusion afterwards. Instead 
of receiving present impressions, we possibly try to pump up 
emotions deemed suitable to the occasion. We gaze upon the 
mountain of stone around us, on the Sphinx at our feet, and 
on the green valley of the Nile ; we recall early readings about 
the wonders of the world, of travels in Egypt, and stories of the 
big Pyramid; and we ask, “ Are we really here ? Are these the 
things which stirred our hearts long ago ?” And then trying 
possibly to gauge the depths of time since these Pyramids were 
erected, we place historical mile-stones a few centuries apart, 
putting the first down at the period of the Reformation, then 
jogging up to the Crusades, the decline and fall of the Roman 








EASTWARD. 


3^ ■ 


Empire, the Old Testament times, those of Joseph and his 
brethren, until we reach Abraham. We then look at the big 
stones about us and say, “ These were placed here long before 
Abraham ! ” Then we begin to ask, “ Who built them ? what 
were they built for ? and who on earth was Cheops ? ” And then 
possibly some shells in the limestone attract the eye, and we ask, 
“ When were the occupants of these alive?” And w r e thus get 
past Adam and Eve, into the infinite cycles of geologists, until at 
last the chances are one gets so bewildered and dreamy that he 
slides into a speculation as to whether “ Shepherd ” has packed 
any soda w r ater or pale ale for lunch, for it is very hot; or mutters 
with Byron, 

“ Let not a monument give you or me hopes, 

Since not a pinch, of dust remains of Cheops ! ” 

It is, after all, very humiliating to think how a slight pain in 
foot or head, a disagreeable argument, a hot sun, a stubborn 
donkey, a scratch on the nose, or some trifle, will affect the whole 
landscape, however grand. I will back a “ corn,” or a bad tooth, 
to destroy the glory of the past or present, and reduce all other 
thoughts to one burning sensation of intolerable pain ! 

Yet, confessedly, few can escape in such circumstances an awed 
feeling of vast and unknown antiquity, nor fail to hear faint 
echoes from the tide of human life that chafed against these 
immortal walls before history began. I doubt not a great part of 
the charm which fascinates us in such scenes arises from the 
consciousness of human brotherhood which all historical countries 
suggest—of the existence long since of beings like ourselves— 
men who planned and laboured, lived and died, thousands of 
years ago, but are yet alive somewdiere, and with whom, could 
they only start into life now, we would be able to sympathise. 
After all, 'persons are the life of this world, and a personal God 
the life of the universe. 














CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 


Before descending from my elevated seat let me point out more 
fully the relationship of the Pyramids to the valley of the Nile, 
and to Cairo. Imagine the Delta to be, what it often is, a sea, 
and the valley of the Nile a narrow strait bounded on the east 
side by low desert limestone hills, and on the west by an elevated 
ridge of tawny sand. At the entrance of the strait is Cairo on 
one side, with its clustering monuments in the sun-light, and on 
the opposite side are the Pyramids, elevated on a beach of genuine 
desert sea-sliore—sharply separated from the high-tide mark of 
the inundation. 

While leaving the Pyramid, the famous passage from dear old 
Sir Thomas Browne’s “ Chapter on Mummies ” came to my 
memory :—“ Time sadly overcometh all things, and is now domi¬ 
nant, and sitteth on a Sphinx, and looketh unto Memphis and 
old Thebes ; while his sister Oblivion reclineth semi-somnous on 
a Pyramid, gloriously triumphing, making puzzles of Titanian 
erections, and turning old glories into dreams. History sinketh 
beneath her cloud. The traveller as he pacetli amazedly through 
those deserts asketh of her, Who built them ? And she mumbleth 
something, but what it is he knoweth not ! ” 

Here I ought perhaps to insert a chapter about the Great 
Pyramid, with information derived at second hand from the 
circulating or more recondite library; for at first hand I know 
nothing about it, except what I have revealed. But let me in¬ 
form a certain excellent lady, in reply to a question which she 
put to me, and others probably, like her, whose readings on 
Egyptian antiquities are not more extensive than my own, that 
the steps I have spoken of are not inside, but outside ‘the 
Pyramid; and that when built these ledges were all covered 
so as to present a smooth surface of polished marble, which has 
been stripped off by sundry Caliphs, and made use of in other 
buildings. 

Let me also remind those who have forgotten their geography, 






38 


EASTWARD. 


that this big Pyramid is about 480 feet high, and that its base 
covers thirteen acres. It is not, however, hollow, but a solid mass 
of stone, with the exception of one or two small chambers in the 
interior, reached by passages, opening from one side, and widening 
to a more roomy corridor before reaching the centre, where the 
celebrated stone, coffer lies. As to the use of the Great Pyramid 
—for there , are dozens of smaller ones in the land—that is a 
question not yet settled. But it Avas not built for a tomb, nor 



1 . Entrance. 2. Well. 3. Corridor. 

4. Chamber with Porphyry Coffer. b. Air Passages. 


for astronomical purposes, nor for idolatrous worship. A theory 
started by the late Mr. John Taylor, and expounded at length by 
the Astronomer Royal for Scotland, Professor C. Piazzi Smyth— 
to whose interesting book we refer the reader *—seems highly 
probable, if the data on which it is founded are correct. The 
theory is, that it Avas a great national or world standard of weights 
and measures of every kind, founded on an exact knoAvledge of 
the axis of rotation of the globe; that in this big cairn are 


*“ Our Inheritance in the Great Pyramid.” London: Stralian. 1SC4. 


















CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 


39 


measures of length marked off, the unit of which is one inch, 
or to ott-ct o o t t o °f the earth’s axis of rotation ; that the porphyry 
coffer in the centre is a standard grain measure or chaldron, 
holding to a fraction four of our English quarters, or 70,982 
English cubic inches; and that there are also subdivisions 
of the year into months, weeks, and days, “ checked off,” 
in the grand gallery leading to the coffer, with sundry other 
details which we cannot enter on. I am inclined to believe 
that Mr. Taylor and the Professor are on the right track of 
discovery. 

No event occurred worth recording on our return journey, 
except the fall of my donkey—if that has any interest to the 
intelligent public. The event seemed to be of great £>ersonal 
interest to the worthy animal, and excited in me a certain 
sense of undignified bewilderment, producing sensations which 
reminded me of early days, and also of increasing infirmities. The 
transition was sudden and odd, from dreaming about the Pharaohs 
and the Exodus, to finding one’s-self lying beside an ass in 
the mud of the Delta. The animal seemed to take his fall 
as a matter of course. I presume it was a sort of duty which 
he often imposed upon himself on this route, as a last resource 
to obtain relief from an extra load. After his rest he jogged 
on, like Peter Bell’s donkey, with perfect ease and unfaltering 
step. 

Next day we visited Heliopolis. The ride to it through the 
country is most pleasant, with the green fields, palms, acacia, 
and sycamore trees, and springs of water and water-mills. On 
reaching it, one sees little with the outer eye, except a granite 
obelisk with sharply-cut hieroglyphics, standing in an open space 
of tilled fields, which are surrounded by mounds and walls of 
brick, in which the chopped straw that was mixed with the day 
is yet visible. But Joseph—that noblest of men—married a 
daughter of the parish minister of Heliopolis; and Plato— 













40 


EASTWARD. 


tliat great orb of thought—studied at this primeval Oxford. Can 
any man paint in words the thoughts suggested by such facts ? 
That obelisk was raised one hundred years before Joseph was 
born. Herodotus saw it when he came to this old university to 
get information about Egypt. The Pyramids, older still, rise 
like mountains in the horizon beyond ! Near this is shown the 
tree under which the Virgin reposed on her flight to Egypt with 
her Son. It was probably planted centuries afterwards. What of 
that ? One rejoiced to be, for the first time in his life, on the 
traditional track even, of those wonders which fill the earth, and 
of facts which transcend fiction. 

During those short expeditions around Cairo we were, of course, 
accompanied by our donkey boys, to take charge of their steeds, 
and belabour or lead them, as required,—all being under the 
command of Hassan. These boys were with us during three 
days, under a hot sun from morning till evening, running and 
jabbering along the dusty highway like flibberty-jibbets; yet 
though pressed to eat a portion of our lunch—offered by us 
from sheer pity for their wants-^they steadily refused, simply 
saying, “ Ramadan ! Ramadan ! ” It was the annual Mahometan 
Fast, and no better proof could be afforded of the strictness with 
which it is kept by the mass of the people. Their principles 
are not true, but they are true to their principles. They cannot 
be blamed for eating with an appetite the moment the sun goes 
to bed, but must be praised for their self-denial during the 
day. We may safely conjecture regarding them, as an oddity 
of a Scotch preacher once did of the Pharisee who boasted that 
he fasted twice a week, “ I’ll wager he made up for it during 
the other days ! ” But I don’t think these supple, all-skin-and- 
whipcord boys, ever enjoyed what a voracious Westerner of the 
same class would call “ a blow out.” 

Let us to the Bazaars. A walk of a quarter of an hour across 
the open space before the hotel and through nameless streets 






















STREET SCENE IN CAIRO, 


































































































































































































































































CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 


4i 


with little interest save to the Franks, brings us into those 
crowded arcades of merchandise. They are broader, higher, more 
aristocratic, and richer than those of Alexandria, and are the 
most picturesque hve have seen. Not so out-and-out Oriental, 
critics say, as those ot Damascus, but, to a stranger who cannot 
detect the true signs of genuine Orientalism, they are fully 
more interesting. They are partially covered at the top with 
matting or palm-leaves, to keep out the glare of the sun 
and to produce coolness. Every trade has its own “ location,” 
and birds of a feather here flock together, whether gunsmiths, 
butchers, coppersmiths, or shoemakers, dealers in soft goods 
or hardware, pipes or tobacco, liorse-gear, groceries, carpets, or 
confections. 

The people who crowded these bazaars, in their various 
costumes of many colours, are always a source of intense interest. 
The most striking points in the buildings are the balconies, 
which in some cases almost meet from opposite sides of the 
street; but there is an endless variety of quaint tumble-down 
bits of architecture, with fountains, and gateways shutting in 
the different quarters, while the mosques, with their high walls 
and airy minarets, overlook all. Ever and anon we saw vistas 
along narrow crowded lanes, and views into back courts and 
caravanserais, with such groupings of men and camels, merchants 
and slaves, horses and donkeys, Bedouins and Nubians, mingled 
with such brilliant colours from Persian carpets and shawls, such 
bright lights and sharply-defined shadows, as made every yard 
in our progress exciting, and tempted us to sit down as often 
as possible on some bench or shop-front to enjoy the inimitable 
picturesqueness of the scene. A great artist once told me that 
for three days he tried to settle himself in order to paint in the 
bazaars of Cairo, but his mind always got so distracted with the 
richness of his subject that he could never compose himself to his 
work. No sooner did he resolve to paint one bit than he saw 


Gr 























42 


EASTWARD. 


another which seemed better, until for a time he gave it up 
in despair. 

When seated on a bench contemplating the stream of Oriental 
life which rushed past us, we had what I must call the good 
fortune to see a very characteristic specimen of an Oriental 
quarrel. It was between a woman and a shopkeeper. The 
woman was, like most of her sex whom one meets with in Cairo, 
obese and dumpy, with the usual veil over her face, which allowed 
however her flashing dark eyes to be seen, glaring like those of a 
tigress. Her nails, which she seemed disposed to bring into 
immediate use as weapons of offence, were dyed. She had large 
ear-rings and other ornaments. The cause of her wrath seemed to 
be the loss of a bracelet, which the shopkeeper appeared to have 
seized as security for some debt. But what a picture were those 
two ! They looked into each other’s faces, and shouted at the top 
of their voices without a pause, question and reply being impos¬ 
sible amidst the roar of their vehement indignation. Their rage 
was not a series of squalls with thunder and lightning, but rather 
the continued scream of the tornado. They hurried off to the 
police, and thither, with a small crowd of excited partisans, we 
followed them. The police, who were smoking their pipes in a 
divan under a verandah near one of the gates, rose up, and calmly 
heard the disputants for a time. The woman demonstrated like a 
maniac, flung her arms around her, pointed to her bracelet, and 
yelled ; the accused, with forefinger close to the woman’s face, 
tried to yell louder ; several men and women took each their part, 
and all spoke and yelled at the same time, while the leading 
officer in the centre, joining in the chorus, with hands extended to 
all parties, yelled at the top of his voice. The discord was made 
up of screeches without a pause, in harsh and guttural, but appa¬ 
rently most emphatic, Arabic. We never saw such a perfect 
quarrel before, such a thorough exhibition of human passion ; yet 
it was too ludicrous to be horrible, for all this vehemence meant 










CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 


43 


little : it was like that of the sea captain who excused himself for 
always speaking in a rage by saying that, if he spoke quietly, none 
of his crew would believe he was in earnest. How the dispute in 
question ended, I know not; but I am persuaded that both 
Billingsgate and St. Giles’s would have meekly retired from a 
contest of words with either the hero or heroine of the Cairo 
bazaars. 

But let us go back to our quiet seat on the bench, and, like 
“Jock the laird’s brother” on the louping-on stone, “glower frae 
us. There is a strange combination of noise and quiet in the 
bazaars. Both belong to the East. There are no “ cars rattling 
o’er the stony street,” for there are no stones to rattle over. The 
roadway is hard clay. We are therefore delivered from the loud, 
grating, harsh European noises of coal-waggons and other vehicles. 
Here they glide along like sleighs over snow. But the very 
absence of the noise of wheels necessitates the use of powerful 
lungs, to warn the moving mass of danger. Accordingly there is 
an endless shouting of something like this : “Yemlna!” (to the 
right ;) “ Shemalek ! ” (to the left;) “ Ducharuc ! ” (thy back ;) 
“ Regalek ! ” (thy leg ;) “ Jamlac-k ! ” (thy side ;)—very much like 
the cries from one vessel to another of “ Starboard ! ” or “ Lar¬ 
board !” to avoid a collision ; while the constant “ Hoah ! ” (look 
out!) is ever heard as a note of general alarm. 

We were astonished at the freshness of the atmosphere, and the 
absence of all disagreeable smells in these crowded streets. Never 
once were we offended by any one of the seventy “ distinct and 
separate ” perfumes which Coleridge has immortalized as charac¬ 
teristic of Cologne. Any abnormal odour which we caught was 
aromatic and agreeable. I don’t pretend to account for this, or to 
say how far police regulations, the dry atmosphere, or the dogs, 
have the credit of it; but I was informed that, for this town 
of upwards of 300,000 souls, drainage, in its “ social science ” 
sense, has no existence. 




















44 


EASTWARD. 


As to the clogs, which throng the streets, they are a great 
Eastern institution, constantly present in all its magnitude to the 
eye and ear of the traveller. The Cairo dogs, as far as I could 
judge, belong to the same pariah race, in form and feature, as 
those of other Eastern cities. They are ugly brutes, without any 
domestic virtues, and without culture or breeding ; coarse-skinned, 
blear-eyed, and scrubby-tailed. They lead an independent public 
life, owe no allegiance to any master or mistress, not even to any 
affectionate boy or girl. They have no idea of human companion¬ 
ship, and could not conceive the possibility of enjoying a walk with 
man or woman ; nor of playing with children, mourning a master’s 
absence, or barking wildly on his return home. They are utterly 
heathen, and never, like our decent sheep dogs, enter church or 
mosque. No tradition has ever reached them of any of their tribe 
having entered a house, even as a tolerated beggar, far less as a 
welcome guest or honoured friend. To have built the Pyramids 
or reigned at Memphis would not appear to them more absurd 
than their possession Of such aristocratic privileges. They are 
kindly treated by the public, in so far as food goes, yet not as 
friends, but only as despised wretches, the depth of whose degrada¬ 
tion is made to measure the charity of those who deign to show 
mercy to them. We saw six of them patiently watching a poor 
man at breakfast. How low must their self-respect have sunk ! 
Alms, when bestowed even generously, are received without any 
genial wag of the tail. That caudal appendage has no expression 
in it: its sympathetic affection is gone. Their political organi¬ 
sation is loose, though a kind of republic exists among them, made 
up of confederate states, each state being a quarter of the town 
and being independent of every other. They cannot rise to the idea 
of united states. Thus, if any dog wanders beyond the limit of 
his own district, he is pursued by the tribe upon whom he has 
presumed to intrude, and is worried until he returns home, to 
gnaw his own state bones, consume his own state offal, and be 


















CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 


45 


supported by his own niggers. These four-footed beasts have no 
home, no kennel, no barrel even, which they can call their own. 
A rug, a carpet, or even a bed of straw, is an unheard of luxury. 
They live day and night in the streets. Miserable creatures! 
I don’t believe the smallest Skye terrier would acknowledge them 
as belonging to his race, but, proud as a piper, would snarl past 
them with curled-up tail, and a low growl of dogmatic unbelief in 
the identity of the species, and of insulted dignity at the notion of 
a return bark being expected from him. 

Some people are able, by the power of their fancy, to reproduce 
in ordinary daylight the Arabian Nights of old El Kahira, or Cairo, 
as it is called. We think it quite possible, after some months of 
total separation from Europeans, devoted to the study and reading 
of Arabic, and to the smoking of timback in a nargile, that one 
might reproduce before his mind's eye the ideal glories of the 
days of Haroun al Raschid. But for a man going fi - om one rail¬ 
way to another, it is impossible to enjoy the old faith in Alad¬ 
din’s lamp, to invest any Barber with interest, or to expect to get 
directions from the Genii, as we do now from “Bradshaw.” Yet 
one evening, when passing through a bazaar, we took a cup, or 
rather a china thimbleful, of delicious coffee, with its dark grounds 
as more solid nourishment; and then we had, for a moment, such 
a glimpse of Eastern life as might, with time and culture, have 
grown into a genuine Arabian-night feeling. It was a repetition 
of the scene in the bazaar of Alexandria I have already described, 
with the difference of a larger cafd, a more interested audience, 
and, above all, the fact that they were listening, as former 
generations had done, to a person reading aloud, with great gusto, 
stories of a similar kind to those of “ The Thousand and One 
Nights.” It was a pleasant sight, and suggested not only romantic 
thoughts of the past of El Kahira and Bagdad, but, what was of 
infinitely more importance to me, practical thoughts as to the 
immense power, which we Westerns have never developed, of 















EASTWARD 


SKETCHES FROM CAIRO. 



One of the Richer Class. 


The Poorer Class. 










































































CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 


47 


good story-telling for the people, illustrative of minor morals, and 
of “ the thousand and one ” every-day details of common life, which 
should be considered and attended to by them for their physical 
and social well-being. The deep foundations of life require to be 
firmly laid, and big stones placed upon them, by heavier and more 
complicated machinery than this; but many an interstice might 
be filled up in the building, and many a valuable hint given for its 
internal economy and comfort, by the lighter machinery of good, 
racy, vernacular, pointed story-telling, which would form most 
effective week-day sermons for our people over their tea and 
coffee. 

In the meantime, I must bid adieu to Cairo and its bazaars. 
In my next chapter I may take a glimpse into the mosques, and 
then for the Red Sea! 

















III. 


CAIRO AND THE RED SEA. 


I AM not yet done with Cairo. But my narrative, in the mean¬ 
time, must be broken up, like my journey, by a visit to the Red 
Sea. 

“ Tickets for Suez !” What a shock does such a request as this, 
which we made at the Cairo station, give to all our associations 
with the desert, and the journeyings of Abraham and Isaac and 
Jacob ! It is as great as if w r e proposed to take a passage in an 
excursion steamer on the Lake of Tiberias, or to visit a cotton mill 
on the site of the Temple of Jerusalem. But if any one prefer to 
journey on a camel alongside the railway, he may have one. 
Dragomen and camel-drivers are always on the qui vive to conduct 
the enterprising traveller to any spot where “the ship of the 
desert ” can sail. Poetry is -ever in advance of what is called 
“ progress,” though ever present to idealise it when it becomes 
prosaic. Had time permitted of our choosing between the camel 
and “ first-class,” we might probably have chosen the former, and 
thus obeyed the poetic instinct. As it was, however, we accepted 
the conventional and swifter mode of travel, and booked our¬ 
selves for Suez. I am not sure but the Patriarchs, in similar 
circumstances, would have done the same. And why not ? A 
distinguished English prelate, so the story goes, was accosted, when 
entering his comfortable carriage, by an excellent Mrs. Gamp, 
who, assuming that comfort and Christianity were necessarily 
opposed, suggested the delicate inquiry as to what the Apostles 
would say were they to see one who professed to be their successor 
travelling in such luxury. “ I think it not unlikely,” was the 




CAIRO AND THE RED SEA. 


49 


meek and wise reply of the worthy bishop, “that they would 
thankfully acknowledge how much improved the times are since 
their day !” So we felt, in remembering the past, as we entered 
the railway for Suez. 

We naturally expected to lose all sense of the desert—not once 
to come under its spell—in our journey through it by rail. But it 
was really not so. No railway associations obtruded themselves 
upon our notice, except the long moving shadow upon the sand. 
We alone seemed to be in the wilderness, drawn along by a power 
which, from the very scenery through which we passed, had a 
strange air of novelty and mystery about it. There were no well- 
built station-houses like Swiss cottages, but only wooden huts at 
great intervals, which stood alone and solitary in the arid waste, 
without a name to distinguish them from each other in the bound¬ 
less expanse of sand. They are simply numbered like milestones. 
Such buildings fail to give any life to the scene, and excite in us 
only feelings of pity for the hermits who inhabit them, and whose 
duties consist, not in conning over breviaries, or in helping forlorn 
travellers, but in adjusting switches and in supplying water and 
food to thirsty and hungry steam-engines puffing through the 
sweltering heat. 

The railway changed the scenery of the desert no more than a 
balloon changes the scenery of the clouds. Once out of Cairo, we 
were in the ocean of sand and desolation, as much as a ship out of 
Plymouth is in the ocean of green water. We passed across the 
characteristic flinty ground of the real desert; we saw rolling hills 
of tawny, almost golden sand, like yellow snowhills, drifted and 
smoothed by the winds, and as if never trodden by the foot of 
man. We saw troops of light gazelles bounding along with elastic 
step as they fled in terror from the mysterious monster that 
rushed snorting towards them from the horizon. We saw in great 
beauty more than one mirage, fully realising all we had ever 
heard of its deceptive likeness to large pools or lakes of water, 

H 













50 EASTWARD. 


with shores indented by tiny bays and jutting promontories, and 
with a hazy brightness over them singularly picturesque. We 
saw strings of loaded camels, with Arabs on foot guiding them, 
and slowly journeying, as their predecessors had done for thou¬ 
sands of years, along that old route, it may be to Palestine or to 
Arabia Petrea, or to strange and unknown scenes, or to verdant 
seas of pasture lands and feeding grounds for goats and camels, 
with tents pitched round springs of water—spots to which no 
vacation tourist has yet penetrated, and that remain as they were 
in the days of Job. And thus the desert was very desert, out and 
out, as it ought to have been, in order to meet the expectations of 
those more sanguine even than ourselves. On we went, thoroughly 
enjoying the scene, with no feeling of disappointment whatever. 
We could certainly picture a more ideal mode of passing through 
that old romantic waste, but it was impossible to picture a more 
perfect waste than that which we passed through. 

I need not say that as we approached the Red Sea, there were 
many fidgety movements ever and anon towards the window from 
which we expected to get the first look of the famous gulf. 

The low range of the Mokattam hills, which stretch east and 
west from Cairo, and to which we had been moving parallel, began 
at last to swell and break into more massive forms, like a billowy 
stream rising into the loftier waves of a rapid. Higher and higher 
they rose, until we could discern the fine broken outline of what 
seemed to be the summit of a range of precipitous heights looking 
towards the east, and plunging into invisible depths. These 
heights were the northerly end of the range of the famous Jebel 
Attaka—bordering the Red Sea. As we neared the end of the 
desert plateau along which we had been wheeling, more and more 
of the precipices, several miles off, began to disclose themselves, 
until at last, when we reached the edge of the plain by which the 
railway descends to Suez, we saw the Red Sea, and beyond it a 
grey outline, which marked to us a new quarter of the world, and 






CAIRO AND THE RED SEA. 


5i 


was the shore of the Arabian peninsula, in the centre of which we 
knew Sinai was seated on his throne ! 

The hotel at Suez is as comfortable as any in Europe ; and men 
of a certain time of life, with their “ manifold infirmities,” always, 
I presume, appreciate civilised accommodation. I can quite con¬ 
ceive, remembering my own ignorant and enthusiastic youth, how 
a member of the ambitious Alpine Club may sincerely believe 
that he prefers a bivouac above the clouds on the lee side of a row 
of stones, with a glacier for his bed-fellow, to a decent bed at 2s. a 
night in a hotel ; or how some stray sheep from the fold of 
civilised life, who has wandered to every out-of-the-way spot under 
heaven, shoidd glory in a savage hut, or rude tent, or some other 
form of uncomfortable shelter in which to “put up.” I am not 
disposed to cross-question such travellers about their feelings in a 
cold or hot night, or in a wet or dusty morning. Let me presume 
that they always awake in their respective abodes with a high 
sense of their own manliness and pluck, which must be most 
agreeable to them and a full reward for all their sufferings ; but 
let them pardon, while they pity, easy-going gentlemen who prefer 
number 16, or any other, in the corridor of a hotel, with “John,” 
or “ Mohammed,” to clean their boots, and to call them at a 
certain hour in the morning. 

Such was our felicity at Suez. 

But “ ancient founts of inspiration ” were not wanting, as we 
ascended at night to the house-top, and in the deep silence saw 
the moon which looked down on Moses and the host of Israel 
pouring its effulgence over the Red Sea, and as we also perceived, 
afar off, the “ everlasting hills ” which had witnessed one of the 
most profoundly interesting events in history. 

And as for things of the every-day present, there was a comedy 
announced for the evening, to be acted by the employes of the 
P. & O., i.e., the Peninsular and Oriental, Company—not a 
theatrical one !—and very well acted it was. It so happened that 
















52 


EASTWARD. 


among the audience I soon discovered old acquaintances, and 
others allied by the ties of common friendships. I need not 
specify who these were, for such matters are personal and without 
general interest; but I must except one, who reminded me of our 
meeting in the West Highlands thirty years before. He was then 
one of the handsomest men I had ever seen (don’t blush, Major, if 
you read this!), and a good man, of an old family withal. Since 
then he has had many adventures. One of those fixed him in a 
house built somewhere in the desert between Sinai and the sea, 
where he employs the Bedouin to gather turquoise from the sur¬ 
rounding district, for sale. He has made friends of all the tribes, 
conveys supplies for his wants on camels’ backs from Suez, shows 
kindness—like “ Staffa,” his chief and hospitable uncle, before him 
—to every traveller, and leaves upon all who have the pleasure of 
knowing him, the impression of what some people call “ a real 
gentleman,” others a “ thorough good fellow.” If “ Good Words ” 
ever penetrates to “ them parts ” on a camel’s back, its Editor 
greets thee, thou Sheik of the Turquoise! 

I met here also our excellent consul, Mr. Colquhoun, an old 
acquaintance, from whom I had received letters of introduction to 
the Continent thirty years before. His situation I do not envy, 
but he will ever be the man of heart and honour. Our gallant 

friend, with big head and heart, Colonel M-- of the Guards, 

with his better half, we will rejoin in Palestine. 

It is a pleasure which a clergyman often enjoys, of meeting in 
the most unexpected places, persons to whom he has ministered 
somewhere or other. They kindly introduce themselves to him, as 
they ought to do for the gratification thereby afforded to him. 
Such happiness I had at Suez, and those who caused it may thus 
learn that their kindness was appreciated. 

On the afternoon of our arrival at Suez—to go back a few hours 
in my story—before the play and all our brotherly meetings began, 
having a few hours of daylight, we wished to improve them, not 







CAIRO AND THE RED SEA. 


5£ 


by examining the Israelites’ passage of the Red Sea, but by bath¬ 
ing in the Sea itself. So we went from the hotel towards the gulf, 
and were fully convinced that the town of Suez, in spite of its 
8000 inhabitants, is a place not worth examining ; that the 
bazaars have nothing but what is commonplace in them ; and that 
this centre point between East and West is, like a true geometrical 
point, in itself nothing. 

We proceeded to the quay built by the French, which extends 
about a mile into the sea, and along which a railway is being con¬ 
structed. It is intended to lead to a dock and harbour near an 
island further down the gulf. Here I can imagine the “ intelligent 
reader ” stopping me to inquire about this railway and the Suez 
Canal:—“ Is it likely to succeed ? Is it commercial or political ? 
Have the French humbugged John Bull, as they always do ? or 
is the whole scheme a gigantic failure ? Are our civil engineers 
right in their calculations and in their condemnation of it as a 
mechanical impossibility ? Do you think,” &c. Now, I must 
confess, in honest truth, that I cannot give any one reliable 
information on this subject. All these points which the supposed 
inquirer moots, and many of a like nature, are questioned and 
debated in Suez by most intelligent men, just as much as 
in London. One hears the same difference of opinion in both 
places. 

“ It will and must pay ! ” asserts boldly a man with a moustache. 
“ Why, they have already in their town, which I have visited, such 
a hotel!—such elegance and comfort, such-” 

“Bosh! my dear Tom,” cries another, “the whole thing is a 
bubble. No ships will ever take the trouble to beat up the Red 
Sea in order to go by this canal. And how can any amount of 
water make the desert productive \ ” 

“ Why,” retorts a man who knows, as he says, “ the whole 
thing,” “ my belief is that the sweet water, that is, the fresh water, 
of the Nile—which, remember, they have brought, and were the 


















54 


EASTWARD. 


first to bring, to Suez—will convert the ground along its whole 
course into as fertile soil as the Delta; and my conviction also is 
that it ivill and must pay.” 

“ We shall see, as the blind man said ! ” murmurs the doubting. 

“These French,” chimes in a hitherto silent listener, “you may 
depend upon it, are uncommonly clever fellows, and wonderful 
engineers; and my own opinion is, that unless they had good 
grounds for ending successfully, they never would have begun at 
all; and what they have actually done is confessedly more than 
what was ever anticipated by any but themselves. I have no 
doubt whatever that a water communication of some sort for 
vessels, larger or smaller, will be opened, and that very soon too, 
between the two seas.” 

“ The rascals want Egypt—that’s the whole thing. It’s a 
political dodge, and no mistake,” argues a contemplative listener, 
with his legs upon a chair, and his eyes and cigar pointed up to 
the roof. 

“ I don’t care a fig,” exclaims another member of the self- 
constituted canal committee, “ whether they get Egypt or not ! I 
defy them to be more selfish than this Pasha. We shall have our 
own route to India, ere long, by Antioch and the Euphrates, and 
let them have this one if they like.” 

This is the sort of talk, with more or less information and 
wisdom, which one hears at Suez. 

It was a glorious morning when we started at early dawn for 
“ Ayoun Mousa,” or the Wells of Moses, some eight miles or so 
down the Red Sea from Suez, and situated on its eastern shore. 
The air was fresh and breezy, the sky cloudless and full of subdued 
light from the rising sun, whose beams fringed with gold the 
heights of Jebel Attaka. One of our companions, pointing to the 
mountain ridge which glowed like a kindling bonfire, remarked, 

‘ If the worship of Baal had any connection, like that of his 














CAIRO AND THE RED SEA. 


55 


companion Astaroth, with the sun, or if he was always adored in 
‘ high places,’ then surely Baal-Zephon, ‘ over against ’ which the 
Israelites camped, was one of those burnished summits.” 

Our boat was very roomy, clean, and comfortable, and had a 
seaworthy look about her. She was manned by several very civil, 
intelligent-looking, and active Arabs. We had some difficulty in 
getting quit of the shoals and into deep water. The crew, walking 
from bow to stern, along the gunwale, pushed her onwards with 
long poles, cheering each other (as most of the human race do 
when engaged in combined physical labour) by singing, if one can 
dignify by such a term their melancholy chant. Their words, 
though genuine Arabic, sounded to our ears exactly like “ I see a 
whale, oh ! ” 

We got at last into deep water, and the lateen sail having been 
stretched to the breeze, we cheerily bore away for our destination. 
It was something worth travelling for, voyaging for, and paying 
for, to be thus launched on the smooth waters of the Red Sea. 
The spot is hackneyed to many, but was new and most joyous to 
us. We were now on the unbroken track of those scenes of Bible 
story which had been familiar to us from infancy, and had mingled, 
during life, with so many of our holiest thoughts and associations. 
Somewhere near us was the place where “ the Church,” having 
been delivered, by the mercy and power of its great King from 
heathen bondage, began its marvellous history, as the chief instru¬ 
ment in His hand in giving freedom to the world. It was impos¬ 
sible for us to avoid recalling the leading events of that drama : 
the wonders of which Horeb saw the beginning and ending; the 
mysterious meeting of Moses with “ the angel in the bush; ” the 
“ programme,” so to speak, then given to him, of all that was to take 
place in Egypt connected with the Exodus, and which he after¬ 
wards rehearsed to the representatives of Israel; the journey of 
the two old brothers, Moses and Aaron, the former fourscore years, 
to the court of the mighty Pharaoh at Zoan, that Satanic embodi- 









56 


EASTWARD. 


ment of self-will without love ; the subsequent dread contest 
between the kingdoms of the world represented by Pharaoh, and 
the kingdom of God represented by Moses ; the fierce dismissal of 
Moses by Pharaoh, “ Get thee from me ; take heed to thyself; see 
my face no more ; for in that day thou seest my face thou shalt 
die! ” with the solemn reply of the old man, alone and solitary 



Map of Egypt, showing the March of the Israelites. 


save for the presence of his God, “ Thou hast spoken well ; thou 
shalt see my face no more ! ” Then followed the gathering of the 
people in Goshen, after months probably of preparation, during 
the infliction of the successive plagues ; the awful destruction of 
the firstborn of Egypt; the appointment of the Passover, which, • 
in some form or other, by Jew or by Samaritan, has remained, 




















































CAIRO AND THE RED SEA. 


57 


until this (lay ; * until at last they began their march, having first 
received, as was predicted by Moses, tribute from the kingdom of 
the heathen, when the hitherto despised slaves were not only per¬ 
mitted to go, but entreated to do so on any terms. Their victory 
was complete: their supremacy was acknowledged: the enemy 
was spoiled ! 

Up to this point the narrative in Exodus is sufficiently clear. 
But what of the crossing of the Bed Sea ? It may seem presump¬ 
tion in me to offer any opinion upon what has been so frequently 
discussed, and on which the most learned critics and most truthful 
men differ. But like most of those who have preceded me in this 
journey, I cannot help forming some opinion on the point in dis¬ 
pute ; and I take the liberty of expressing it very briefly. 

That the children of Israel crossed the Red Sea on their way to 
Palestine is, I must be permitted to assert, one of the most certain 
facts in ancient history, and has ever been embodied in the holy 
songs, traditions, and memorial ceremonies of the Church of God. 
It is, moreover, now generally admitted that Goshen was on the 
Delta, and that Rameses, on its eastern side, and about thirty 
miles from Suez, was the starting-point of the vast caravan. But 
if so, the pilgrims never passed up the narrow valley of the Nile, 
from Goshen to Memphis, from thence to turn east to pursue their 
journey by the Basatien route to the Red Sea, south of the Ras 
Attaka.f This theory is utterly untenable. It is quite clear from 
the narrative, that their shortest, easiest, and, as it were, natural 

* The paschal lamb was eaten (a small portion, a single mouthful probably, by 
each person) by the males only above twenty-one years of age ; and it would not 
require many lambs for such a sacramental feast, more especially if by “ house ” is 
meant, not a habitation, but a family or clan. These and other points in the 
narrative are very well discussed by my friend the Rev. George Sandie, in his 
“ Horeb and Jerusalem.” 

f My brother, minister of Linlithgow, who was one of our party, had, on a 
former journey to Jerusalem, via Sinai, travelled from Cairo to Suez by this route, 
and had no doubt regarding its impracticability for the Israelites. 

I 

















EASTWARD. 


58 


road to Palestine lay between the head of the Gulf of Suez and 
the Mediterranean, thence along the coast of Philistia. We are 
told, however, that “God led them not through the way of the 
land of the Philistines, although that was near; for God said, Lest 
peradventure the people repent when they see war, and they return 
to Egypt. But God led the people about, through the way of the 
wilderness of the Red Sea.” So at last they found themselves, 
some days after leaving Rameses, with the Red Sea between them 
and their destination, encamped “ before Pi-hahiroth, between 
Migdol and the sea, over against Baal-Zephon,” wherever those 
places were. The facts which we have to deal with in the 
narrative are, that somewhere or other they were obliged to cross 
the Red Sea ; that they did so; that the sea stood up in heaps, 
or like a wall, on their right hand and their left, by the power of 
God exercised at the word of Moses ; and that Israel escaped, 
while the whole Egyptian army was drowned. 

Can we now-a-days on any good grounds settle where that 
crossing took place ? 

Some hold that the narrow portion of the gulf immediately 
above or below Suez meets the conditions of the narrative. With 
great respect for those who differ from me, I humbly think 
not. It is not two miles broad, and is so very shallow that 
at low water it can be crossed by camels. Nor is there any 
reason to think that it has been materially changed during the 
historical era, since the remains of the old canal of Sesostris can 
still be traced from the Nile to the present head of the gulf. 
Making full allowance also for what could have been effected 
by ebb tides, of which there is no mention in Exodus, and for 
east winds, which could not divide deep water, it is more difficult 
to account in that case for the destruction of the Egyptian army 
than for the deliverance of Israel. 

As we sailed down the gulf, and gazed at the formation of the 
western shore, the narrative appeared to us, as it has done to 





CAIRO AND THE RED SEA. 


59 


w 


many on the same spot, to receive interpretation. Along that 
western shore there is, as we have said, a range of wild precipices, 
forming the “Jebel Attaka,” which is the 
“ butt end ” of the Mokattam hills. This range 
rises abruptly from the desert in the north, and 
is from 2000 to 3000 feet above the level of the 
shore. It runs for about nine or ten miles along; 
the coast, and has the sort of contour shown 
in the illustration, looking at it from the sea. 

Between these wild, rough, broken preci¬ 
pices, impassable by human foot, and the sea, 
there is a flat plain several miles broad at its 
northern end (next to Suez), which narrows 
towards the point, or “ Ras Attaka,” where, 
at a spot called by the Arabs, Wady-Edeb, 
it is of the breadth of from one to two miles. 

Now*, on the supposition that the Israelites 
encamped on the plain marked B, A, no wonder 
that Pharaoh—seeing them in such a position, 
flanked by precipices to the right, the deep 
sea to the left, with an amphitheatre of stee]) 
bluffs shutting them up to the south—should 
exclaim: “ They are entangled in the land, 
the wilderness hath shut them in ! ” Form¬ 
ing a cordon in their rear, with his 600 
w r ar chariots stretching between the Attaka 
and the sea, he would feel secure of his 
prize, and might say, as Napoleon did of 
the English at Waterloo, “ At last I have 
them ! ” They seemed to all human appear¬ 
ance to have been caught in a trap from 
which there was no deliverance. “ They w r ere 
Josephus, “ between the mountains and the sea- 


shut up,” says 
-mountains that 


































































6o 


EASTWARD. 


terminated at the sea, which were impassable by reason of their 
roughness.” 

In their despair the “ children of Israel cried out unto the 
Lord ! ” and the Lord delivered them. 

How did they escape ? We read that “the angel of God, 
which went before the camp of Israel, removed, and went behind 
them ; and the pillar of the cloud went from before their face, 
and stood behind them : and it came between the camp of the 
Egyptians and the camp of Israel ; and it was a cloud and 
darkness to them, but it gave light by night to these : so that 
the one came not near the other all the night.” What effect this 
had on the several details of their deliverance, we cannot fully 
estimate. Then the children of Israel were commanded to “go 
forward ! ”—but not necessarily at once across the sea, opposite 
the north end of Attaka, but to advance towards the “ Ras,” or 
point to the south, where the head of the vast column would 
begin its march from shore to shore—the cloud, like a rear-guard, 
hindering in the meantime any attack by Pharaoh. We further 
read—“ the Lord caused the sea to go back by a strong east wind 
all that night.” Now, whatever other purposes this w T ind was 
intended to serve, yet as the gulf runs north and south, an east 
or a north-east wind could not blow the waters southward out of 
the gulf; but, as we noticed by placing our compass on the shore 
opposite to Jebel Attaka, any wind from the east would drive the 
water for a considerable distance off the shallows, which stretch 
from the eastern shore, and thus have the effect of narrowing the 
channel, and of leaving the deep sea only to be miraculously 
divided. If the divided portion lay between the Ras Attaka and 
the opposite plain on which the Wells of Moses are situated, the 
distance, minus the sands left dry, would be about six or seven 
miles. 

As to the time which was occupied by the passage, it does not 
seem quite clear from the narrative that it was in one night only. 


















N.H.—The figures in this Chart indicate the soundings in feet. 
















































































































































































CAIRO AND THE RED SEA. 61 


The succeeding events are thus recorded, without reference to the 
usual punctuation and arrangement into verses :— 

“ And Moses stretched out his hand over the sea. 

“ And the Lord caused the sea to go back by a strong east wind ah that night, 
and made the sea dry land. 

“ And the waters were divided. 

“ And the children of Israel went into the midst of the sea upon the dry 
ground. 

“ And the waters were a wall unto them on the right hand, and on the left. 

“And the Egyptians pursued, and went in after them to the midst of the sea, 
even all Pharaoh’s horses, his chariots, and his horsemen. 

“ And it came to pass, that in the morning watch the Lord looked unto the 
host of the Egyptians through the pillar of fire and of the cloud, and troubled the 
host of the Egyptians, and took off their chariot wheels, that they drave them 
heavily: so that the Egyptians said, Let us flee from the face of Israel; for the 
Lord fighteth for them against the Egyptians. 

“ And the Lord said unto Moses, Stretch out thine hand over the sea, that the 
waters may come again upon the Egyptians, upon their chariots, and upon their 
horsemen. 

“ And Moses stretched forth his hand over the sea, and the sea returned to his 
strength when the morning appeared ; and the Egyptians fled against it; and the 
Lord overthrew the Egyptians in the midst of the sea. 

“ And the waters returned, and covered the chariots, and the horsemen, and all 
the host of Pharaoh that came into the sea after them ; there remained not so 
much as one of them.” 

Now there is nothing, it appears to me, in these words, to 
contradict the supposition that the sea was divided on the 
morning immediately after the stormy night; that the advanced 
guard of the host, which lay encamped along the plain north 
and south, then began from west to east to cross the gulf near 
the Ras Attaka; that the march of the whole body continued all 
that day and the succeeding night; so that not until the watch 
of the second or following morning, when the rear-guard of 
the Israelites was emerging out of the depths, and the cloud had 
passed with them to the opposite shore, did Pharaoh at last 
move in pursuit. He must then have marched some miles “ into 
the midst of the sea,” as his whole army, attempting to return, 
was overthrown. 





62 EASTWARD. 


If the Israelites thus crossed, from the “ Ras Attaka” (or 
“ Point of Deliverance ”), they would emerge on the grand plain 
immediately opposite, in which the “Wells of Moses” are situated. 
To effect all this we have of course assumed the existence of 
God’s almighty power, moulding the lower kingdom of nature to 
advance the higher spiritual kingdom. 

Such Avere the impressions made upon us by the land and the 
hook—when seeing the one, and reading the other on the spot. 
But A\ r hile we are gazing on the Jebel Attaka in silence, broken 
only by conjectures and suggestions, our boat, with her ear down, 
is listening to her own music, as with flowing sheet we stand in 
for the sandy beach. 

The tide had ebbed before we approached the shore near Ayoun 
Mousa, so the Arabs had to carry us to the dry sand. The trust- 
Avorthy Ishmaelite to whom I Avas assigned, strange to say, com¬ 
plained of the ecclesiastical burthen that was laid upon him. It 
Avas in vain that I hugged him affectionately round the neck, and 
Avith all my might too, Avhile he staggered Avith me in the sand. 
He seemed insensible to my kindness, and discharged me into 
Asia Avith a half grunt, half groan, as if I Avere a sack of coals. 
But these Arabs are an ignorant and degraded race ! 

The Avalk along the sandy shore excited in us all the feelings of 
boyish curiosity and eager love of acquisition. Had Ave seen the 
shells, which Avere neAv and beautiful, lying on cotton in a cabinet, 
Ave might have been indifferent to them; but to gather them in 
situ, to pick up small sponges too, to wander free amidst this 
museum of conchology, and to pocket Avhatever we fancied, had 
peculiar fascination about it. I could have Avandered along that 
beach for days, gathering shells, while the crisp Avaves of the sea 
rippled over the shallows. It Avas on the sea-shore Avhat “nut¬ 
ting ” is in the Avoods. 

We had to Avalk for about an hour across an utterly flat, barren, 
and sandy plain. This may have been the spot on which the 




CAIRO AND THE RED SEA. 63 


Israelites entered from the sea, and where Miriam beat her loud 
timbrel, and sang that magnificent ode of victory which, like an 
echo from the Rock of Ages, is repeated in the song of Moses and 
the Lamb. 

The Wells create a small oasis in the desert. Dr. Stanley calls 
them the Brighton of Suez, inasmuch as its more aristocratic 
inhabitants take up their abode there during the summer. This 
gives as melancholy an idea of Suez, as one would have of 
London if its inhabitants preferred the Isle of Dogs for a summer 
residence! The Wells nourish a few gardens, with shrubs and 
cotton plants, and produce a certain amount of cultivation most 
pleasing to the eye in this arid waste; and, if repose be sought 
for, they must afford it in abundance to those who wish to escape 
the roar and bustle of Suez. 

Before turning away from the Wells of Moses I gazed with a 
wistful eye along the track which, losing itself in the sandy 
downs beyond, led on to Sinai. What one would see in a few 
days, if he pursued that route—the Wady Feiran, Serbal, Sinai, 
with the silent plains, the coloured rocks, the buoyant air, the 
awful solitude and mystery of the desert, so full of stirring 
memories, and Petra too, and Mount Horeb, and onwards to 
Hebron and Jerusalem ! It is a holy pilgrimage from glory 
to glory, yet one which never, alas ! can be pursued by me. 
Thankful, however, for all I had seen, and hoped yet to see, I 
bade farewell to Arabia, and retraced my steps to the boat, from 
which the tide was rapidly ebbing. 

When crossing the plain to the sea we met a lanky camel led 
by his driver, and we resolved, like boys visiting the elephant at 
a “ show,” to have a ride. It would be a new experience, gained 
on a fitting spot, and w T ould enable any novice of our party, 
ambitious of the honour, henceforth to exclaim, “ I, too, have 
ridden a camel in the deserts of Arabia ! ” 

So the animal w T as made to kneel, and in performing the 





6 4 


EASTWARD. 


operation he seemed to fold up his legs by a series of joints, as 
one would fold a foot rule. The “ Djemel ” makes it a point of 
honour, when any burthen whatever is laid on his back, to utter 
sounds which may be intended for Arabic groans, sighs, protests, 
or welcomes, but are certainly unlike any other sounds proceeding 
from man or beast. Only an angry lion, trying to roar when 
suffering from sore throat, or with a bag of potatoes stuck in his 
gullet, could approach to the confused, fierce, and guttural ejacu¬ 
lations of the camel. When kneeling for his burden, as well as 
on other occasions, even when walking quietly along, he suddenly 
blows out of his mouth what seems to be his stomach, to air it, 
just as a boy blows a soap-bubble from a short tobacco-pipe. 
Amidst the gurgling growls of my kneeling friend, I got mounted, 
and was told to hold hard, and take care ! There was every need 
for the caution. The brute rose, not as I expected on his forelegs 
first, but on his hind, or rather on only their half—as if on hind 
elbows. This motion throws the rider forward, when suddeidy 
the animal elevates himself on his knees, and, as one naturally 
bends forward to prepare for the last rise in the same direction, 
he hitches up the other half of his legs behind, and then as 
suddenly repeats the same experiment with his legs before, until, 
shaken and bewildered, one is thankful to find himself at rest 
high above the sands of the desert, rather than prostrate upon 
them, among the camel’s feet. Then began that noiseless tread, 
with the soft spongy feet, which, however, is more remarkable in 
its silence on the stony streets than on the shifting sand. The 
rocking motion, when yielded to, was not unpleasant. 

I cannot part from Arabia, and my first and last camel ride on 
its plains, without expressing my admiration for that old animal 
which is often abused by travellers, and which fills some people, 
as I have heard them say, with feelings of disgust. I will not 
affirm that the creature commands immediate admiration, but I 
think he inspires immediate respect. The expression of his soft. 

















CAIRO AND THE RED SEA. 


65 


heavy, dreamy eye, tells its own tale of meek submission and 
patient endurance ever since travelling began in these deserts. 
The “Djemel” appears to be wholly passive—without doubt or 
fear, emotions or opinions of any kind,—to be in all things a 
willing slave to destiny. He has none of the dash and brilliancy 
of the horse,—none of that self-conscious pride,—that looking 
about with erect neck, fiery eye, cocked ears, and inflated nostrils, 
—that readiness to dash along a racecourse, follow the hounds 
across country, or charge the enemy,—that decision of will which 
demands, as a right, to be curried, stroked, patted, pampered, by 
aristocratic lords and ladies. The poor “ Djemel” bends his neck, 
and, with a halter round his long nose, and several hundredweight 
on his back, paces along from the Nile to the Euphrates, making 
up his mind to any amount of suffering, feeling that if his wrongs 
could not be redressed by Abraham, he has no hope from Lord 
Shaftesbury. Where on earth, or rather on sea, can we find a 
ship so adapted for such a voyage as his over those boundless 
oceans of desert sand ? Is the “ Djemel ” thirsty ? He has re¬ 
course to his gutta-percha cistern, which holds as much water as 
will last a week, or, as some say, ten days even, if necessary. Is 
he hungry ? Give him a few handfuls of dried beans, it is 
enough ; chopped straw is a luxury. He will gladly crunch with 
his sharp grinders the prickly thorns and shrubs in his path, to 
which hard Scotch thistles are as soft down. And when all fails, 
the poor fellow will absorb his own fat hump ! If the land-storm 
blows wflth furnace heat, he will close his small nostrils, pack up 
his ears, and then his long defleshed legs will stride after his 
swanlike neck through suffocating dust; and, having done his 
duty, he will mumble his guttural, and leave, perhaps, his bleached 
skeleton to be a landmark in the waste, for the guidance of future 
travellers. If this creature be a development from some primeval 
oyster or mushroom, or the work of atoms which, at an earlier 
age, once floated in empty space near, it may be, where Saturn 

K 













65 EASTWARD. 


or the Pleiades now are, we can only admire the extraordinary 
sagacity, by which, according to the laws of selection, monads and 
atoms all contributed, during countless millions of years before 
the oyster age, and from the oyster age downwards, towards 
building this fine old ship of the desert, which has needed no 
repair since the beginning of human history. 

But we must return to Cairo ! Thanks to that great magician, 
that Fortunatus cap, the steam boiler, we were able in one day to 
sail from Suez to the Ayoun Mousa, ride on the “ Djemel,” return 
in the afternoon to Suez, and that same night to arrive in Cairo. 
No doubt we almost missed the train, one minute more would 
have done it, but fortunately we saved the minute, and were 
speeding again through the desert. It is very easy for idle 
gentlemen, who seem to have as much time at their command 
asthe antediluvians, to condemn busy men for taking such rapid 
journeys, although it be to visit spots which they would never 
otherwise see. If their own bliss be measured by slowness of 
travel, why don’t they walk on foot or ride on a donkey’s back 
through Europe ? 

Sincerely grateful for rails and steam, we reached Cairo at 
night, and so secured another day to see a few sights, and espe¬ 
cially the mosques, ere we left the “ City of Victory.” 

As to the mosques, which I promised in my last section to look 
into, I need not attempt to describe their external appearance, as 
the illustrations of them in Ferguson’s Architecture, or “ Murray,” 
will give a better idea of this than any words could do. In its 
interior, the mosque always struck me as a most impressive place 
of worship; Perhaps my Presbyterian prejudices dispose me to 
acquiesce in its perfect simplicity. No statues or pictures are 
permitted in it; and no seats of any kind are required for people 
who prefer the floor, which is invariably matted or carpeted, thus 
giving it, to a European, an air of comfort. Almost the only sign 
of furniture in it is a pulpit or two from which the people are 










1 



CAIRO, WITH THE RUINED MOSQUE OF TAYLOON. 































































































































































































































































































CAIRO AND THE RED SEA. 


67 


addressed occasionally by the Moolah. The mosque is always 
open, I believe, and is seldom without some worshippers, while at 
stated times during the day it is well attended. There is the 
utmost decorum and reverence everywhere visible ; no hum of 
voices is heard, nor even footsteps, nor is there anything visible 
which can distract or arrest the attention of the worshippers. 
People of every class scatter themselves throughout the vast area, 
each man selecting a spot for himself where he can kueel towards 
the “ Mirliab,” or niche which indicates the direction of Mecca, 
and seem as much absorbed in his duty as if he were in a desert 
island. Some are seen sitting cross-legged, and engaged in grave 
conversation ; while others walk soberly up and down. The whole 
service, judging of it only by what one sees, gives the impression 
of worship to an unseen God, which must, when first established, 
have presented a remarkable contrast to that of the Christian 
Church as it then was ; and it certainly is a very different thing 
from that which at Luxor or Karnac once reigned supreme, with 
a Bull or Beetle for its God ! Mahometanism owes its origin 
to Judaism and Christianity; and we who live in the full blaze of 
the true light, are apt to undervalue the good obtained from its 
dimly reflected beams, which, nevertheless, irradiate spots that 
otherwise would be outer darkness. 

I must pass over many other sights in Cairo. “ If time per¬ 
mitted ”—as public speakers say at a late hour—I could gossip 
about the magnificent tombs of the Caliphs, the citadel, and the 
splendid view of the city from its walls, with the mosques and 
busy streets at our feet, like Mahometan ant-hills, and with the 
hazy Libyan desert, and the Pyramids on the distant shore beyond 
the dark inlet of the Delta;—and tell about the well-known spot 
where the one Mameluke Bey escaped from the bloody massacre 
of all his fellow-chiefs, by the fearful leap of his Arab steed over 
the wall of the fort; and I could describe—no, that is impossible! 
—the horrid, death-like place outside the walls where animals 












68 


EASTWARD. 


are slaughtered in the open air, and where the vultures crowd 
around,—Faugh ! let us press close our nostrils and pass on ! 

A Turkish hath seems to me to be a most fitting conclusion to 
sight-seeing like this, in such hot weather too. I know not as yet 
what that institution may be in London, but having endeavoured 
to enjoy the luxury in three places—Moscow, Cairo, and Damascus 
—and all of them being much alike in their essential features, 
I frankly confess that I have no wish to try the experiment again 
in “ foreign lands.” The description of one—though I cannot 
quite separate in my memory some of the details of the Cairo 
and Damascus hot-water-and-soap establishments—will serve 
for all. 

We inquired for the best bath in the city; and our intelligent 
guide, Hassan, the sheik of all the donkey-boys about Shepherd’s 
Hotel—a man who, from his intercourse with the English, is 
assumed to have some knowledge of Western civilisation—assured 
us, as we were about to enter one of those boiler-houses, that it 
was the best in Cairo, where “ all de lords Inglese go.” We bowed 
and entered. The outside looked very shabby. The first room 
was a large apartment with an uneven floor, flagged with stone— 
marble of a sort, I believe. It wore a singularly liquid look, and 
had about it a general air of hazy, foggy damp. Hanging from 
the roof were innumerable long sheets drying. One end of the 
room was elevated, and was reached by a few steps; and on this 
upper floor were a series of couches, seemingly very clean, on 
which the half-boiled bathers reclined, smoking nargiles, and 
radiating forth their heat into space, thereby producing dew. To 
this dais we were led, and requested to undress. The genius of 
the place appeared in the form of an old man, evaporated into 
skin and bone, with a solitary tuft of hair on his head, a wet towel 
round his loins, and his whole body dripping. I started when I 
saw him,—I did not know why, until I recognised in him the 
image of Father Time as pictured in tracts and almanacks, but 













CAIRO AND THE RED SEA. 69 


fortunately wanting the scythe. Delivering our valuables to the 
care of a patriarchal individual who sat cross-legged in a corner, 
we were wrapped in a sheet, and led out by Time, accompanied by 
a scarecrow attendant, who from his long legs might represent 
leap year. We put on wooden shoes, and passed over heated 
slippery stones into another apartment, which was so hot that one 
felt a tendency to become browned like a toast, or to bubble over 
the skin. This sensation subsided gradually into a pleasing dewy 
evaporation. We were then conducted to a large open vat full 
of water, which to us had two objections: one was that it was 
intolerably hot, the other that it seemed already full of donkey- 
boys and their friends,—the head of Hassan in their midst, 
grinning above the surface. But, inspired by the determination 
to go through with all the horrors of this sudoriferous den, we 
clenched our teeth, tried to imagine ourselves chimney-sweeps, and 
jumped in. In due time, when sufficiently saturated, we were 
(though perhaps this happened at Damascus) put in a hot 
chamber and laid on the floor, with cockroaches, or what the Scotch 
call “ clocks," crawling over it in dozens. There we la}', like turbot 
or cod about to be dressed for dinner. By and by we were soaped 
from toe to head, lathered with soft palm-tree fibre, then had 
tepid, and afterwards cold water poured over us, and then a 
monster began to crack our joints and shampoo us ! He succeeded 
with my companion, who yelled, as the Egyptian, in fits of 
laughter, seemed to put every limb out of joint, and to dislocate 
his neck. But when the same Pharaoh tried me, his arms fortu¬ 
nately could not meet around me, so after a violent struggle, in 
which I fought desperately and tumbled about on the floor like a 
salmon which a fisher tries in vain to seize round the body, he 
gave it up in despair, and, for the first time probably in his life, 
wiped his forehead from fatigue, as he exclaimed “Mushallah!” 
After sundry other minor appliances, having the same end in view 
—that of opening the pores of the skin—we returned to the 





7o 


EASTWARD. 


apartment from whence we had originally started, and were there 
gently dried by a series of warm sheets being laid upon us. 
Hassan spread his carpet and said his prayers. The sensation 
after bathing was very pleasant, no doubt, but not more so, nor 
calculated to do moi'e good, than what most cleanly disposed people 
experience daily from the application of hot and then cold water, 
accompanied by the well-known substance, soap, in their quiet 
bath-room at home. 

Doubtless I felt light and elevated when I got out, but as 
pleasant feelings can surely be produced without being scrubbed 
like a pig, rubbed down like a horse, boiled like a turkey, exhibited 
like a new-born infant to the curious, and without having a donkey 
driver for your C.B. !—and all this with no other consolation than 
the assurance that the pores of your skin are open forsooth—like 
the doors of a public institution ! For my part, I prefer them 
closed—or at least ajar. 

We had one thing more to do ere we left Cairo for Palestine, 
and that was to hire a dragoman. There were many applicants. 
These men are constantly prowling about the hotel : they scent 
the prey afar off, they meet you in the lobbies, sidle up to you 
under the verandah, tap at the door of your bed-room, beg pardon 
in French, Italian, or English, all equally bad ; ask if you “ vant a 
dragoman;” produce an old book of certificates signed by the 
various parties with whom they have travelled, and profess to bo 
ready to proceed with you at a moment’s notice to Jerusalem or 
Timbuctoo. Dragomen are, by the catholic consent of all travel¬ 
lers, considered as scoundrels. But I am inclined to dissent from 
this as from most sweeping generalisations regarding classes of 
men. It is alleged of a Scotch traveller that, when told at Cairo 
by his companion that they must get a dragoman, he asked, 
“ What kind o’ beast’s that ? ” Now I know that some travellers 
have started on the assumption that the dragoman is but a beast, 
though a necessary one for the journey ; and from want of con- 













CAIRO AND THE RED SEA. 


fidence have suspected, accused, and worried him, threatened him 
wit! l appeals to the consul, and such like, without any adequate 
cause, and thus have helped to produce the very selfishness and 
dishonesty and “ want of interest in the party” which they accuse 
him of. 

It is a dragoman’s interest to he civil and honest; so I believe 
it to be quite possible for any intelligent traveller, with some 
assistance from the better informed, to make, sign, and seal, before 
starting, such a tight bargain as, with the promise of a reward, if 
satisfied, at the end of the journey, will make imposition to any 
appreciable extent impossible. But the indolent traveller, who 
has abundance of money, often begins by spoiling his dragoman, 
and then ends by abusing him for being spoiled, and for having 
taken advantage of the reckless expenditure and careless accounts 
of his master. 

Hadji Ali, who was employed by the Prince of Wales on his 
tour, offered himself to us, and was accepted. He came, it must 
be confessed, with a character sadly shaken by his last employer, 

Lady-; but after investigating, as far as we could, the whole 

circumstances of the case, we made our bargain with the Hadji, 
and had no cause to repent having done so. He agreed to conduct 
our party of five from Jaffa to Damascus and Beyrout, at the rate 
of thirty shillings a day for each, during one month. Others, 
strongly recommended to us, refused to go under forty shillings, 
owing to the sudden rise in the price of cattle and provisions 
consequent on the murrain in Egypt. Our contract was written 
by my brother, who had experience in the work, on Friday, and 
Hadji agreed to be on board of our steamer at Alexandria on 
Monday, with all his camp equipage. And so, having Settled that 
important point, we left Cairo on Saturday for Alexandria, 
gratefully acknowledging that we had never in one week seen so 
much to interest us, or to furnish thought for after years. We 
bade farewell to my old kind-hearted friend, Mr. Dunlop, Vice- 








72 


EASTWARD. 


Consul,—since transferred to Cadiz,—a man,who will make many 
friends and no enemies wherever he goes. We saw no other 
“ sight ” in Egypt which impressed itself on memory, except the 
crowd of Turks which, like a bed of tulips, filled the third class, 
each man having a beard and turban which might form a study 
for an artist. The whistle screeched with its usual impatient 
violence, and we moved off for the sea, leaving behind us 
Shepherd’s hotel, full of the homeward-bound from India, and 
the tombs of Egypt, fuller still of the Dynasties of Manetho ! 










IV. 


JAFFA. 


We embarked at Alexandria on Sunday evening* in a Russian 
steamer which was to start at early dawn for Jaffa. When I say 
we, I do not at present use the editorial, or the modest “ we,” 
instead of the too personal and obtrusive “ I.” It is intended to 
express the party which embarked at Alexandria to visit Pales¬ 
tine together. s 

Now one of the most difficult practical problems which a tra¬ 
veller has to solve, is the choice of the companions who make up 
the “ we.” His comfort, the whole atmosphere of the journey, the 
enjoyment from it at the time and from its memory afterwards, 
depend in a great degree on those who accompany him. Let him 
beware of his espousals ! A divorce may be impossible for months, 


* We had thus the happiness of spending another Sunday at Alexandria with 
our good friend the Scotch minister, Mr. Yuille, and of again assisting him in his 
services in the harbour on board his “ Bethel ” ship (presented to the Church of 
Scotland Mission by the late Pasha) and of preaching to his congregation on shore. 

Travellers, I fear, are too apt to form an estimate of the value of missionaries 
in foreign cities only from the number of “ conversions ” of the heathen or the 
unbelievers among whom they are settled. But without at all underrating this 
great branch of their work, let us not overlook, as we are apt to do, how great 
a privilege it is to Europeans themselves,—to the wandering traveller, the 
resident merchant, the young clerk far from home, the sailor visiting the port, the 
invalid seeking a more genial clime,—to have a simple-hearted, intelligent, God¬ 
fearing missionary to visit them in sickness, to advise and comfort them in difEL- 
culty and in sorrow, and on each Lord s day to minister to them by prayer and 
preaching. In our opinion such a missionary is the Christian Consul of the place 
in which he lives. His value is great, and he deserves the support and encourage¬ 
ment of every right-thinking man. 


L 




















74 


EASTWARD. 


and his sufferings in the meantime great. Accept therefore of no 
man who for any reason whatever can get sulky, or who is thin- 
skinned ; who cannot understand a joke or appreciate a bad pun ; 
who wears the photograph of his wife round his neck, or, what is 
worse, of one whom he wishes to be his wife ; who has a squeaking 
voice, which he is for ever pestering the echoes to admire and 
repeat ; who refuses to share the pain of his party by paying when 
cheated ; who murmurs doubts about the lawfulness of a glass of 
beer; who cannot “ rough it ” and suffer in silence ; who has long 
legs, with knees that reach across a carriage ; or who snores loudly. 
Avoid such a man. Drown him, if necessary, unless he reform. 
What is needed above all else is geniality, frank and free cordial 
companionship, with the power of sympathising not only with his 
“ party,” but with the spirit of the scenes and people among whom 
he moves. The feeling with which a man gazes for the first time 
on some famous spot, like Jerusalem or Tiberias, colours the whole 
afterthought of it. Let one of the party at such a time strike and 
keep up a false note, the whole music is changed into discord, and 
so echoes for ever in the ear of memory. 

Now I state all these qualifications with greater confidence, 
inasmuch as “ our party ” was unexceptionable. There was my¬ 
self, for example;—but 1 dare not here pause as Matthews used 
to do in his story of the actor who began to enumerate the great 
performers he had known, suddenly stopping after his own name, 
and adding, “And I forget the rest!” For to forget would be 
impossible, that there was also my friend Mr. Strahan, the pub¬ 
lisher, and my brother, the minister of Linlithgow, both selected 
for the important and highly responsible duty of protecting me ; 
the one being accordingly told off to hold the bridle, and the other 
the stirrup of the weighty writer on those solemn occasions of great 
physical exertion when he mounted, or dismounted from, his horse 
or ass; and there were our excellent friends the Rev. Mr. Lundie, 
of Birkenhead, and Mr. George Barbour, Jun., of Bolesworth, who 












JAFFA. 


75 


both joined us on finding that their route was to be the same 
as ours. 

Each of us had his own peculiar greatness. The publisher was 
great in endurance, even at sea in bad weather,—that is to say, so 
long as consciousness remained; the minister of Linlithgow was 
great as a courier, and great also in Arabic, for he could count ten 
in that language, having been in the country before ; the minister 
of Birkenhead was great in plants; the young Cheshire laird was 
great on horseback, and could force a trot, and on some occasions 
a gallop, when all others failed to do so; the writer was great all 
over, even majestic—in sleep. 

Having introduced my friends, I shall, without perhaps men¬ 
tioning them again, resume the “ I ” or the “ we ” as fancy or 
convenience may dictate, freeing them from all responsibility for 
what is written by either. As we never had the slightest differ¬ 
ence in our happy journey, I shall indulge the confident hope that 
the “we,” will generally concur in the account, such as it is, or 
may be, which the “ I ” may give of it. 

The steamer was very comfortable, but very slow. There was 
no forcing her even in smooth water up to eight knots. The 
captain was a short man, round as a barrel, and with a bullet 
head, like a seal’s, covered by shiny black hair. He was very 
civil, in his own official way. The vessel was one of a line which 
unites the coasts of the Mediterranean with those of the Black 
Sea. 

It was crowded with “ pilgrims ” coming from Mecca, I believe, 
though I cannot be positive as to their terminus a quo or ad 
quern. What interested me most on here meeting, for the first 
time, with a freight of pilgrims, was their great numbers and 
their strange habits on shipboard. They were spread everywhere 
over the decks in family groups, leaving only narrow paths barely 
sufficient for sailors or curious passengers to move along without 
treading on them. They lay huddled up in carpets and coverings 











?6 


EASTWARD. 


with the sort of quiet submission to their position which good 
Europeans manifest in yielding themselves up to death and the 
grave. Whether they slept, meditated, or were in utter uncon¬ 
sciousness, it is difficult to say ; for during most of the day few 
seemed to attempt to move or shake themselves loose from their 
place of rest. When the sun shone bright in the morning or 
evening, and the ship was not uneasy, there was a general rising 
up of turbans like flowers from the variegated beds of a garden. 
Nargiles were then produced, lights were passed, bags, handker¬ 
chiefs, or other repositories opened, and bread, with figs, garlic, or 
some other condiment, divided by the old bearded Turkey cock 
and his hen among their young in the nest around them. It was 
marvellous to see, as we noticed afterwards on longer voyages than 
this, how little suffices to satisfy the wants of Orientals. 

The one half of the quarter-deck was tented with canvas, and 
set apart for the more aristocratic portion of the pilgrims ; but, 
except for the darting out and in of some young black-eyed girl or 
slave who supplied them with water, their long tent was as still as 
the grave. So still, indeed, did some of those Easterns keep, so 
submissive and patient were they under all pressure of circum¬ 
stances, that on one occasion when I went to enjoy the quiet and 
the fresh breeze at the vessel’s bow, and sat on the fore jib, which 
had been hauled down and stowed, I sprang up in alarm on finding 
it to move under me. I discovered to my horror that I had been 
sitting for some time on a Moslem ! He survived the pressure ; 
nay, smiled at my expression of alarm. I hope he has not suffered 
since. 

We had one passenger on board who was of some importance—- 
the ex-Duke of Modena. He was on a pilgrimage, as we were told, 
to Jerusalem, where we afterwards met him. He was a quiet, 
courteous gentleman, unaffected in manner, and wearing a 
saddened look, which, knowing the change in his social position, 
could not but excite our sympathy. It is easy to blame a ruler 














JAFFA. 


77 


for wliat was done or left undone by him while in power; but 
few of us can know or understand the whole world of circum¬ 
stances and surroundings, ecclesiastical, political, and social, in 
which such a ruler has been placed from infancy, nor the gifts 
or capacities given him by God, so as to form any righteous 
judgment regarding his personal guilt or innocence. We pitied 
the Duke for his loss of Modena, although not Modena for the 
loss of the Duke, who was of great service to us, in securing an 
excellent table for the passengers while on board. The captain 
wore his Russian orders, and the cooks and stewards obeyed them ; 
so, what with the Duke and the orders, there was great dignity 
and good dinners. If Dr. Johnson, that authority on morals, 
deemed it right for a man on land to pay attention to what 
must be done thrice every day, who can blame a man at sea for 
paying attention to his meals when he has little else to concern 
himself with all the day long ? It is surely inconsistent to pity 
the sick man who dispenses, in more ways than one, with his food, 
and at the same time to blame the strong man who enjoys it ? 
W e again acknowledge our gratitude to the Duke of Modena. 

We had other passengers who contributed to make this short 
voyage a very agreeable one. There were Messrs. Thompson, 
Ford, and Bliss, with other excellent American missionaries; and 
our friend Colonel M-with his lady and party. 

We were rather doubtful as to where we would be put ashore, 
for the landing at Jaffa is not always to be depended upon. There 
is no port for the steamer to enter; and if the weather be at 
all rough, boats cannot leave the harbour: and should they be 
able to do so, there is often much danger in entering it again* 
as the passage through the reef of rocks is very narrow, and boats 
are apt to ship a sea from the breakers, and thus be swamped. 
The next landing-point is Caipha, or Haifa, under Mount Carmel, 
and this, we believe, can be entered in any weather. But it is an 
inconvenient point of access to Palestine, as it necessitates the 















78 


EASTWARD. 


tourist who wishes to see the north and south of Palestine, to 
retrace his steps northward after visiting Jerusalem—unless he 
varies his journey by travelling southward along the plain by 
Caesarea to Jaffa. We ourselves would much prefer, if Jaffa 
failed, to go on to Beyrout, see Damascus, &c., and travel south, 
embarking at Jaffa. Fortunately the weather was propitious, and 
the Duke of Modena was anxious to reach Jerusalem by the 
shortest route. This settled the case in favour of Jaffa, or old 
J oppa. 

On the afternoon of Tuesday we were approaching the Holy 
Land, and straining our eyes to get a first glimpse of its ever¬ 
lasting hills. 

The sun was setting as we descried the long low line of the 
Palestine coast. It had set when we blew off our steam, a mile 
or so from the shore. The twinkling lights of boats were then 
seen like stars coming towards us, and soon the port officials 
stood on deck demanding a clean bill of health ; and this being 
produced, boat after boat came clustering to the ship’s side. Then 
arose an indescribable Babel from the screeching of their crews, 
who seemed engaged in some fierce and deadly strife of words 
which was itself an interesting study, until, after a while, amidst 
the roaring of steam and of voices, we were by degrees carried 
along over the side and down to a boat, in a current of sailors, 
Turks, Arabs, passengers, poi'tmanteaus, dragomen, and travellers, 
while officers and captain were at the gangway acting a pantomime 
in despair, vociferating Russian louder than the steam, stamping 
their feet, grasping their hair, and appearing half apoplectic with 
their efforts to be heard, yet able at intervals to command a 
smile for the comfort of the Duke of Modena. It was a great 
relief to be off from the ship’s side (though more than once I 
thought unpleasantly of Jonah) and to pull for the old shore. 

I do not know whether there is a more convenient landing- 















JAFFA, FROM THE SOUTH. 




































































































































































































































































































































































































































JAFFA. 


79 


place at Jaffa than that by which we passed from sea to land. I 
have a faint memory that some one told me there was a stair. I 
hope there is; for if not, that one difficulty might form a more 
formidable barrier to some travellers than a high mountain pass. 
Our landing-place was a shelf of wood projecting overhead, under 
which our boat was brought, and from which a dozen hands of 
unknown and, in the darkness, dimly visible Arabs, were stretched 
down to help me up. I was quite alive to the “ slip between the 
cup and the lip,” but somehow, though not without difficulty, I was 
dragged to land, and found myself in Palestine. I cannot say that 
I was wanting in emotion, yet it was emotion in no way kindled 
by the spot I trod upon, but by the villanous crowd who 
surrounded me, forcing every thought into one uncontrollable 
desire to be delivered from these Philistines. With thanksgiving 

O O 

I heard my name shouted by my old friend Dr. Philip, to whom I 
had written from Scotland, and who was waiting for me to guide 
me to his hospitable home, about a mile from the town. He had 
a horse ready for me; so leaving our dragoman—of whom more 
anon—and all my friends, except Mr. Strahan, another old 
acquaintance of our host, we immediately proceeded to “the 
Mission Farm.” We soon got clear of the town, and then as we 
paced along on the yielding, sandy road, with a rich aroma per¬ 
fuming the air from orange groves and other odoriferous trees, the 
fact began to dawn slowly upon me that I was at last really in the 
Holy Land and treading the plain of Sharon ; and so in silence, 
and with deepest gratitude, I followed our leader in the way. 

It was a great happiness and blessing to enter that house ; to 
meet happy children at the door; to hear their merry, innocent 
voices echoing through the vaulted arches of that Eastern, yet 
English home. Bachelors don’t understand the fascinating poetry 
of children. A father only, as he gathers them about him, and 
gets the young ones on his knees and tells them stories, and looks 
into their pure and beautiful eyes, and hears them tell all that 























So 


EASTWARD. 


interests them—which the Times would care nothing about— 
can understand the refreshment to the spirit of getting quit of 
hotels and steamers, of the fever of ceaseless movement, of sight¬ 
seeing, and of the bore of acquiring accurate information about 
things nearly as old as creation,—a father only can understand 
the pleasure of this, and of once more being among “ the bairns.” 
Blessings be on the sweet group at the Jaffa farm ! 

I ascended the house-top alone at night, and then—how could 
it be else ?—the delightful feeling grew upon me—“ I am in Pales¬ 
tine ! This is no dream ! ” Little could be seen except the stars, 
which scintillated in the calm brilliancy of an Eastern night. To 
me they were for a time exclusively Palestine stars, and part of 
that landscape only. The “ plough ” alone connected me with 
home, and I felt a friendly Scotch feeling to it. The deep silence 
of the night was broken only by the sea, which came booming in 
low, hollow sounds from the shore, as it did in the days of Jonah, 
or as when heard by Peter while journeying from Jaffa to Csesarea 
along the old sandy tract which passed near our dwelling. 

Early next morning we went to Jaffa, and then for the first 
time I saw “ the Land ” under the full blaze of the sun. The 
atmosphere was delicious, and the sky cloudless. The first impres¬ 
sion made upon me, as upon every traveller, was the marvellous 
richness, the orchard-beauty of the neighbourhood. The path 
wound between rows of cacti (the opuntia ), or prickly pears, vary¬ 
ing from three or four to fifteen feet in height; and one could not 
help pausing to look at their great soft fibrous stems fringed with 
leaves (?) resembling thick green cakes or “ bannocks ” stuck with 
needles, and forming a defence through which the breeze can pass 
in full volume, although neither man nor beast can do so. The 
gardens of fruit-bearing trees are the glory of Jaffa. There are 
endless groves of oranges and lemons, apricots, pomegranates, figs, 
and olives, with mulberry and acacia trees, the stately palm tower¬ 
ing above them all. I was informed that there are about three 




















JAFFA, FROM THE NORTH-XORTH-EA3T. 





























































































































































































































JAFFA. 


81 


hundred and fifty gardens around this old town, the smallest being 
three or four acres in extent, the largest ten or twelve. Of these 
gardens two hundred and fifty have one well, and about one 
hundred two wells. Each well employs about three animals, 
who work day and night for six months in the year, and draw 
each about one thousand cubic feet of water in the twenty-four 
hours. This gives one some idea of the “ water-privileges,” as the 
Yankees would say, of the Plain of Sharon ; and I believe the 
same abundance of water is procurable from the whole of the 
Philistian plain, which accounts for its fertility, and, to some 
extent, for its ancient wealth and the number of its inhabitants. 
About eight millions of oranges are grown every year in the gardens 
around Jaffa. Several hundreds are borne by a single tree, and are 
sold wholesale at an average of little more than three-pence the 
hundred. In retail, ten are sold for a penny in Jaffa. An orange- 
grove gave me the idea of rich and luxuriant fruitfulness more 
than any other sight I ever beheld. The number of oranges which 
can hang from a single twig is remarkable. The accompanying 
engraving is an exact representation in all respects of one I broke 


off with four adhering to it. The size, too, of the fruit is extra¬ 
ordinary, averaging ten to twelve inches in circumference, while 
some reach seventeen inches. Even the apricots, we were in¬ 
formed, sometimes attain the size of fifteen inches. The colour, as 
well as the size of the fruit, and the immense clusters which loaded 
every tree, made the grove much more impressive than the vine- 

M 

















82 


EASTWARD. 


yard, in spite of all its hanging bunches of luscious grapes. We 
saw them harvesting the fruit. It was carried by merry boys and 
girls, in large basketfuls, and laid in heaps. I confess that my 
first thought was what a paradise this would be for our Sunday- 
school children on their annual holiday. What a luxury to be 
allowed, not to suck the sour fruit purchased with their only half¬ 
penny from a barrow in the street, but to bury their whole face, 
gratis, in a succession of those immense fountains of ripe and 
delicious juice ! Milk and honey would be nothing to it. Tltey 
would never feel disappointed with Palestine ! The ideal would 
be lost in the real, until at least a dozen oranges were consumed, 
and they had time to breathe and meditate. 

The only disappointing thing about an orange-grove, or any 
garden which I saw in the East, was the roughness of the ground. 
It is cut up into trenches for the purpose of irrigation. Velvety 
grass exists not: this would make the retreat perfect. 

Outside of the gate of Jaffa was a place I would have liked well 
to have lingered at. It is a large open space, vanishing into the 
country, and filled with all the picturesque Oriental nondescripts 
to whom I have alluded in former pages, and who, from crown to 
heel, had to me an undying interest. To the usual crowd which 
was ever moving in that open space, with camels, donkeys, horses, 
and oxen, were added troops of horses which for weeks and months 
had been constantly passing from every part of the country along 
the plain, by the old road to Egypt, via Gaza, to supply the 
immense losses sustained there from the murrain. Most of those 
we saw were very inferior cattle, and represented but the dregs of 
the land, yet were selling at large, and, for the East, exorbitant 
prices. The strange-looking characters that accompanied them 
represented the lowest conceivable grade of horse-dealers : their 
faces being a study for the physiognomist as well as the artist. 
We preferred studying them by sunlight rather than moonlight. 

The first place in Jaffa which the traveller naturally desires to 

















JAFFA. 


83 


visit is the traditional house of Simon the tanner, in which the 
Apostle Peter lived. A portion of it at least is evidently a modern 
building, but it it is not the old house, it is nevertheless well 
worth visiting from the characteristic view which is obtained from 
its flat roof. Standing there, I felt myself for the first time 
brought into local contact, as it were, with those persons and facts 
in Gospel history with which every Christian is familiar—which 
occupy the everyday thoughts and most solemn moments of a 
minister’s life and teaching, and which, as he travels through 
Palestine, seem to become incarnate, to pass from written pages 
and to clothe themselves in the visible garb of material scenes ; 
to be brought down from the world of spirit and of abstract truth 
into the real world in which they once lived and moved, only from 
thence to be raised again and made more real and living to the 
thoughts than before. It is associations like these, constantly 
suggested by the objects which every hour meet the eye and stir 
the memory of the traveller, that make the land “ holy,” sobering 
the mind, and investing every day with the hallowed sunlight and 
atmosphere of the Lord’s day. 

But to return to the house-top at Jaffa. The quarter of the 
town in which it exists, with the general idea of the town itself 
and the harbour, will be understood better from the engraving 
of Jaffa on the opposite page, than from any verbal description. 
The house is close to the sea-wall, and looks to the south, from 
which the view is taken. The whole landscape, as seen from 
the roof, is instructive. Along that winding shore, and not far 
from the town, tanners still ply their trade ; and they may have 
done so since the days of the Apostle. Tanworks, if they existed 
at all, would probably be always where they now are, from the 
fact that a current steadily sets along the coast from north to 
south, which sweeps the refuse of the works clear of the town and 
small harbour, while it would have had the opposite effect had the 
works been on the north shore. Simon’s house, wherever it stood, 

















8 4 


EASTWARD. 


may have passed away, but one fact, at least, suggested by it, 
remains for our strength and comfort, that our angel brothers who 
minister to the heirs of salvation, are not strangers to our earth 
and its inhabitants, nor to the situation of our lowly homes, or the 
nature of our “honest trades;” for the angel who commanded 
Cornelius to send for Peter, knew this old town of Jaffa, and knew 
also the name, the house, and the trade of Simon. 

The great sea, whose blue waves danced before us in the sun¬ 
light, and spread themselves to the horizon to wash the shores of 
Europe beyond, seemed also to partake of the light shed from the 
vision revealed to the inner eye of the Apostle when praying 
beneath this blue sky. He had gazed on this sea, unchanged 
since then in its features, and unwrinkled by time ; but as he did 
so, he little knew what endless blessings of Christian consolation 
and of spiritual life were given to our Western world in promise, 
and let down from Heaven with that white sheet! The lesson 
thus symbolically taught, filled him with pain as it destroyed his 
past, but fills us with gratitude as it secured our future. 

Nor could we forget, while standing there, that the first link 
which unconsciously bound the Apostle to Europe, was the person 
of an Italian; that, at their first meeting, the Roman knelt to 
Peter, and was rebuked in the memorable words, “ Stand up, for 
I also am a man ! ” And, remembering all this, the question 
naturally suggested itself, what that same Peter would have 
thought if another vision, ascending, we must suppose, from the 
earth, rather than descending from Heaven, had pictured to him 
what future Italians would do and say in his name ? And had that 
vision also represented the magnificent Cathedral of “ St. Peter,” 
with a statue of himself as its chief attraction to successive thou¬ 
sands of “ Italian bands ” who would kneel devoutly before it, it 
may be further asked, whether he would have recognised in such 
a spectacle a true expression of his own Christianity, and a neces¬ 
sary “ development ” of either the principles or practices of the 















JAFFA. 


85 


primitive and apostolic Church which he represented ? Would 
he not be disposed rather to say, with the prophet of old, when 
contemplating a similar vision : “ So I lifted up mine eyes the 
way towards the north, and beheld northward at the gate of the 
altar this image of jealousy in the entry ! ” 

One has also an excellent view of the harbour of Jaffa from this 
same spot. The coast of Syria has really no harbours—such as 
we mean by the name. It is a line of sand, against which the 
inland ocean of the Mediterranean thunders with the full force 
and volume of its waves. The existence of a few rocky ledges 
like a coral reef running parallel to the shore, forming a break¬ 
water to the small lagoon inside, h.os alone made harbours possible 
—and, with harbours, commerce and direct communication with 
the outer world. Yet, had these been more commodious and 
common than they are, the separateness of the land from the rest 
of the world (for which it was selected in order to educate Israel) 
would have been sacrificed. As it is, the balance is nicely adjusted 
between exclusiveness from the outer world and union with it. 
To this small reef of rocks Jaffa, the only seaport of the land 
of Israel, owes its existence, as well as its continuance from the 
earliest period of history until the present day. Within that 
pond, sheltered from the foaming breakers outside, many a vessel 
lay in peace before even the days of Joshua (ch. xix. 46). 
Belonging as it did to the tribe of Dan, there “ Dan remained 
in ships” (Judges v. 17). Through that opening, but ten feet 
wide, to the west, vessels have sailed, and plunged into the deep 
sea,—Jonahs among them,—for thousands of years. Through 
the other opening, of much the same size, to the north, have 
come the floats of cedar trees from Lebanon for rebuilding the 
house of the Lord. The old town has seen many adventures, and 
the cry of battle from the wars of the Maccabees, the Romans, 
the Saracens, the Crusaders, has risen around its walls, and within 
its houses. The Alexander of modern days, Napoleon, has trodden 


















86 


EASTWARD. 


its streets, and walked in his pride through its Plague Hospital, 
whether to kill or cure it is difficult to say. The fusillade of that 
terrible massacre of 4000 prisoners (as it is alleged) on the sands, 
echoed for hours among its streets. Yet its history is not so 
eventful as that of most of the old Eastern towns which survive 
the wrecks of time. 

But we must leave the house-top, and keep our appointment at 
the hotel to prepare for our journey, which is to begin in real 
earnest on the morrow. 

I have already informed the reader of the important fact, that 
we had hired at Cairo a certain Hadji Ali as our dragoman. True 
to his engagement, he had met us on the Russian steamer and 
accompanied us to Jaffa. “ Hadji ” was an honourable addition 
made to the name of Ali Abu Halawy (recommended by “ Murray,” 
alias my learned and excellent friend Professor Porter, of Belfast), 
and it represented the fact that its possessor had made the 
pilgrimage to Mecca. What his motives were in doing so, I do 
not pretend to know. It may have been in response to his sense 
of duty, his ideas of piety, or of what might be help fid to him as 
a dragoman wandering among the tribes of the desert. Be that 
as it may, we had hired him as the consecrated, saintly Hadji Ali. 
Now it must be confessed that the Hadji did not look like a 
saint such as our Western minds conceive one to be. If he was 
one, he had the gift of concealing the saint and revealing the 
sinner. But, to do him justice, this revelation was more in an 
unpleasant sinister twist of his under jaw, in the bandit look of 
his gaiters, and in the wide-awake, yet reserved and cunning, 
expression of his eyes, than in any word he ever uttered, or in any 
act he ever committed during our journey. 

Hadji had made arrangements for the road, and wished us to 
see our horses and be satisfied with his selection—a most difficult 
and important piece of business ! We met at the door of the 











JAFFA. 87 


hotel—one of those peculiar Eastern hostelries of which I shall 
afterwards speak—to make our acquaintance with our future 
friends, the horses. They seemed a vulgar pack, without breeding 
or anything to commend them. But after sundry experiments, 
protests, rejections, and trials of the girths and saddles, we at 
last selected our cattle, and arranged to start next morning 
from the Model Farm. I need not say that Hadji wished to 
impress us with the greatness of the sum which, owing to the 
dearth of horses, he had paid for the hire of our stud. I had 
brought an English saddle with me, and it was ordered to be put 
on a quiet, patient, respectable-looking, ministerial cob—after¬ 
wards called, in spite, “ the cow.” 

We retired that evening to “ the Model Farm ”—-iso called, by 
the way, from its being an experiment, supported by Christians in 
London, to provide labour for converted Jews. It is superintended 
by Dr. Philip, who acts as farmer and medical missionary. I 
availed myself of the opportunity afforded to me of here visiting, 
without the suspicion of being intrusive or impertinent, a real 
native dwelling—the house of Mamoud, Dr. Philip’s servant. It 
was what in Scotland would be called a humble “ clay biggin’,” 
The fire was on the floor. The furniture consisted of two large— 
what shall I call them ?—jars, three or four feet high, for holding 
grain, with an orifice at the bottom for extracting it. There was 
also a quern, exactly the same as those used in the Highlands, 
and with which, when a youth, I have often ground corn for my 
amusement. A bottle full of oil hung up in the smoke, in order, 
I presume, to keep it always in a fit state for the lamp—remind¬ 
ing one of the saying of David in his sorrow, “ I am become like 
a bottle in the smoke.” The beds, consisting only of carpets and 
rugs, were rolled up in a corner. 

Next morning our cavalcade mustered, and we saw, for the first 
time, the materiel of a tour in Palestine. As to the men who 
accompanied us, there was our chief, Hadji Ali, with brown 




EASTWARD. 


88 


braided jacket, loose Turkish trousers, and long black gaiters or 
leggings as loose and easy as those of a bishop, but wanting the 
episcopal gloss and rows of buttons. A bright kcijfia was wrapped 
round his head and protected his neck and shoulders. Hadji had 
a horse, of course, assigned to him, but was always willing to 
exchange it for the animal which became unpopular with any of 
the party. Next to him in dignity and responsibility was “ Nubi,” 
or the Nubian. He was our waiter, personal servant, steward, or 
whatever will best describe Hadji’s mate. He was a tall young 
man, with skin dark as ebony, shining teeth, intelligent coun¬ 
tenance, and most obliging disposition, and from whom we never 
heard a murmur. The third class was represented by Mohammed, 
the cook, excellent as an artist, and most civil as a man, whose 
sole defect was occasional pains, we shall not say where, but 
intimately connected with his digestion, and to alleviate which 
I ministered from my medicine-chest, thereby securing to myself 
from that time the honourable title of Hakeem Pasha, or chief 
physician. Then came Meeki, the master of the horse, and also 
of the mules. Meeki always rode a small ass—a creature which, 
unless he had known himself to be tough and enduring, would 
have been an ass indeed to have permitted Meeki to mount him. 
He was a square, thickset man, with short legs, broad back, and 
ponderous turbaned head. He rode astride or cross-legged, as it 
suited him. The human side of his character came out wholly as 
a smoker of his constant friend the nargile, and as a singer or 
rather an earnest student of songs, which consisted of little short 
squeaks full of shakes, and in a minor key. His inhuman side 
came out in the dogged, fierce, imperious way in which he loaded 
and drove the pack-horses and mules. I verily believe Meeki had 
no more heart in him than Balaam, and as little conscience. He 
was a constant study to us, whether when packing or unpacking 
at morn or even, or when trudging along at the head of the party 
on his wonderful little animal, which he so completely covered, 




JAFFA. 


89 


that one could see only two small black hind legs pattering along 
with indefatigable energy over sand and rock from morning till 



Meeki, Master of the Horse. [An original sketch .] 


night. Meeki had three muleteers under him, fine active Arab 
lads, who trembled at his voice. We had thus seven attendants, 
including Hadji, with about ten pack-horses and mules. All were 
needed : for, as I have already said, in a note to my first chapter, 
there are no roads in Palestine, and therefore no wheeled vehicles, 
not even a wheelbarrow, from Dan to Beersheba. There are no 
hotels, except at Jaffa and Jerusalem ; everything, therefore, re¬ 
quired for the journey must be carried. 

We left the Model Farm after breakfast, receiving the adieus of 
the children, who waved their handkerchiefs to us from the house¬ 
top. We were accompanied by their father, who kindly agreed 
to o-o with us as far as Jerusalem. The day was beautiful, and 
the atmosphere exhilarating: so we moved off, across the Plain of 
Sharon, full of hope for the future and in great enjoyment of the 
present. We drew up at a grove that formed the outskirts of the 

N 




















90 


EASTWARD. 


gardens, and were made welcome to take as many oranges as we 
could pocket from the yellow heaps, or what a Highlander would 
call cairns, which were rapidly increasing every minute by the 
gatherers emptying their basket-loads of the ripe and delicious 
fruit. To appreciate an orange it must be eaten when taken from 
the tree and while retaining the full aroma treasured from sun 
and air. It may have been fancy, but it seemed to me that I had 
never, except here or at Malta, eaten a perfect orange. We found, 
however, that these very ripe Jaffa oranges lost their character 
in a few days. 

We soon debouched on the undulating plain, over which we 
passed along a beaten track. I xlon’t profess to remember its 
“ heighs and hows,” the successive aspects of the country, or the 
bearings by the compass of “ tells ” or towns : for here I must 
confess the fact, that I kept no journal nor took any notes, except 
in letters to my fireside—a spot unknown in all the East. This 
omission arose from, I verily believe, the mere weariness of the 
flesh—and the trouble of writing - on horseback while a whole 
party passed on or waited until my observations were recorded— 
or the bore of writing in one’s tent when the demand for repose, 
conversation, or reading became imperious. I trusted to the per¬ 
manence of general impressions, and I am not yet convinced of 
my having committed any great error in having done so. I there¬ 
fore bow with humble respect and reverence before careful and 
accurate observers and all scientific travellers, professing myself 
to be only a gossij) about the surface of palpable things, and a 
recorder only of what I saw and actually experienced, and now 
clearly remember. 

We passed in our ride this forenoon the house where some 
American missionaries were murdered a few years ago. They 
were very earnest, but, if the story we heard about them was 
correct, not very wise or discreet men. We passed also a small 
hill, or rather mound, called Beth Dagon, where no doubt that fish 



































JAFFA. 


9i 


god had once his foolish worshippers. We passed a handsome 
fountain called, I know not why, after Abraham ; and we saw 
what was older than Abraham, and what retained all the glory 
and beauty of their youth—the flowers of the plain. These were 
always a charm to the eye—a glory of the earth far surpassing 
that of Solomon. The plains and hills of Palestine are gemmed 
in spring with flowers. The red poppy, asphodel, pheasant’s-eye, 
pink cranebill, mignonette, tulip, thyme, marsh marigold, white iris, 
camomile, cowslip, yellow broom, &c., are common to the Plain of 
Sharon, giving a life and light to the landscape which photography 
cannot yet copy. We saw also, when near Ludd, the well-known 
high tower of the mosque at Ramleh, three miles off to our right. 
It is situated on the highest ridge of the plain, and from its 
position and height (120 feet) it is said to command a noble view 
of the Plain of Sharon to the north, and of the Plain of Philistia 
to the south. We lunched at Ludd, the ancient Lydda, where the 
Apostle Peter cured Eneas of the palsy. As we approached its 
beautiful trees and orchards, we came on the cavalcade of our 

friends Colonel M- and his party ; and such meetings were 

always cheering. But instead of resting under the trees with 
them, we pushed on for the ruins of the church named after 
England’s patron saint, St. George, who was, according to tradition, 
born and buried here. The church, it is said, was rebuilt by 
Richard Coeur de Lion. We spread our first table in Palestine 
under the remains of one of its noble marble arches. An old, 
bearded Greek Christian visited us, and when some one of our 
party told him I was a clergyman, he seized my hand and kissed 
it. It required great faith in the old man to accept the fact of 
my profession, as I certainly did not wear my canonicals, and from 
felt hat downwards had no visible traces of the ecclesiastic. He 
told us many stories about St. George, with keen, believing eyes, 
bated breath, and uplifted finger. I wish I could recollect them, 
and had not too hastily assumed that I never would forget such 
















62 


EASTWARD. 


delightful sensation legends regarding the saint; how he was slain, 
burnt, and beheaded by the King of Damascus, and always came 
alive again ; with the subsequent adventures of his head, which 
was said to be buried under the high altar. But these legends 
have passed away from my memory, though they live in the faith 
of the saint’s aged admirer. It has been hinted, however, by some 
sceptical historian, that St. George was not a very respectable 
character. I think his Dragon must be meant: charity supports 
this view. Was it because of some victory gained here by the 
Crusaders over the Saracens that St. George was adopted as our 
kind patron, without, I presume, asking his consent ? I really 
don’t know. 

After lunch we pushed on for our camping-ground at Jimsu, 
which we saw rising like a fortress above the lower hills, as if to 
defend the passes beyond. The village is situated on a spur of the 
hills of Judea. We reached it in five hours from Jaffa, including, 
I think, our pause at lunch; so that we had an easy day’s 
march. 

The first encampment is always a source of interest and excite¬ 
ment to the traveller. We formed no exception to this general 
experience. Those who associate discomfort with a tent have 
never lived in one, or it must have been bad, or overcrowded, or, 
worse than all, in a wet or cold climate. We had two tents ; the 
one accommodating three persons, the other two. On entering 
the head-quarters and mess-tent, we found the floor spread with 
rugs ; a table round the pole in the centre, arranged for dinner, 
covered with a beautiful white cloth, and on it two wax candles 
burning, with ample space round for our camp-stools. Three iron 
bedsteads were ranged along the sides, and our bags and port- 
manteaus placed beside them, and everything wearing an air of 
thorough comfort, even luxury. The other tents, belonging to our 
suite, were pitched near us ; one for the kitchen, and the cook’s 
utensils and personal luggage—and the other for the general 















CHURCH OF ST. GEORGE. 




















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































JAFFA. 


93 


dormitory of the servants, in which Hadji nightly led off the 
snores. To pitch those tents so as to have them all in order in the 
evening to receive “ the party,” it is necessary that the muleteers 
should start early with them and all the baggage, and push on 
direct to the ground fixed upon, leaving the travellers and 
dragoman to follow at their leisure. 

An excellent dinner was in due time served up by Hadji, and 
assiduously attended by Nubi. We had not much variety during 
our tour, but every day there was more than enough to satisfy the 
cravings of any healthy, even fastidious appetite. Soup, roast 
mutton, fowls, curry, excellent vegetables, a pudding, a good 
dessert, and cafe noir, of first-rate quality, after, cannot be called 
“ roughing it in the desert.” This sort of dinner we had every 
day. And for breakfast good tea and coffee, eggs by the dozen, 
always fresh and good too, with sundry dishes cunningly made up 
of the debris of the previous dinner. We had also an abundant 
lunch, which the Hadji carried with him on a pack-horse, and was 
ready at any time, or in any place, to serve up with the greatest 
nicety. Tea or coffee could be had as a finale before going to bed, 
if wanted. All this I state to allay the fears of those who may 
possibly imagine that, should they visit Palestine, they would have 
to depend upon their gun or the wandering Bedouin for food. 
They might as well fear being obliged to rely for entertainment 
upon the wandering gipsy when travelling between London and 
Brighton. 

When we reached our tents we found a large number of the 
Felaheen, or peasant Arabs, from the neighbouring village, 
assembled. They were very quiet and civil, and did not trouble 
us much about backsheesh, although our experience regarding 
this Eastern impost was daily, almost hourly, enlarging. Every 
petty Sheik, whether of tribe or village, thinks himself entitled to 
it; the children clamour for it; their parents support the claim ; 
and in some wady, men with clubs or guns may urge it upon the 












94 


EASTWARD. 


wayfarer to a degree beyond politeness. But admitting once for 
all this notorious Oriental weakness, I must also protest against 
the injustice done to the oppressed descendants of Ishmael, by 
looking upon them as the only race guilty of levying such an 
income-tax or “ black mail.” I fear that it is an almost universal 
custom, and one not quite unknown among the tribes of the 
civilised and Christianised portions of the globe, though it may not 
be so openly practised by them as by the semi-barbarous Orientals. 
Backsheesh reigns supreme in Russia over the peasant and the 
prince, and is the grand, almost only, passport to the Muscovite 
nation. It is known in America, North and South, under the 
guise of “ the almighty dollar.” It is the douceur or 2 ^ 0 'iirboire of 
France; the trinkgeld or shmeirgeld of Germany; and the huon 
mano of Italy—all being constant sources of irritation to the 
traveller. The tourist in the west of Ireland must more than 
suspect its existence among “ the finest pisantry in the world,” 
though it takes the form there of a “ thrifle, yer honor ! ” Traces 
of it are not wanting in England and Scotland. Does the British 
Arab show ordinary civility ?—does he direct one on his road, 
answer a few questions, devote a minute of his idle time to help 
3 r ou, open a cab door in the city, or a gate in the country ? 
Backsheesh is demanded as “sum’ut to drink,” or hope of it 
is expressed by the eye as the hand touches the cap. Does a 
verger of a church—a sort of Hadji—show you its inside, or point 
out an illustrious grave within or without it ? neither his piety 
nor his humanity ever make him forget backsheesh. Does any 
servant, male or female, belonging to peer or parson in the land— 
whether represented by the aristocratic “ Jeames ” or the maid-of- 
all-work “ Susan ”—does the groom, butler, coachman, footman, 
or keeper, who are fed sumptuously, clothed handsomely, and 
paid liberally, perform any one act of civility towards you with¬ 
out expecting backsheesh ? What is the British “ tip,” “ fee,” 
“ Christmas Box,” “ trifle,” &c., but backsheesh ? Even while I 














JAFFA. 


95 


write, a correspondence is going on in the London Times, accusing 
and defending the head servants (Cawasses) of the West-end 
nobility (Pashas) for demanding a per-centage for themselves from 
tradesmen on the accounts paid by their masters, and this because 
of the servants’ patronage; not the patronage of the master who 
pays for the goods, but of the servant who orders them ! What is 
this but backsheesh in its worst form, as a mean and dishonest 
bribe ? Please let us cover with a mantle, or with even a napkin 
of charity, the demand for backsheesh made by the wretched 
peasantry of the East, until we banish it from our own well-to-do 
people, and from our own wealthy and aristocratic homes. 

The Arabs at Jimsu asked backsheesh, and we distributed about 
sixpence among the tribe. They were satisfied. 

But I had provided a talisman wherewith to “ soothe the savage 
breast.” I selected it for a priori reasons, founded on human 
nature, before leaving London. Instead of taking powder and 
shot, I took—could the reader ever guess what ?—a musical snuff¬ 
box, to conquer the Arabs ; and the experiment succeeded far 
beyond my most sanguine expectations. Whenever we pitched 
our tent near a village, as on this occasion, and produced the box 
as a social reformer, we had soon a considerable number of people, 
old and young (the females keeping at a respectful distance), 
crowding round us, inquisitively but not disagreeably. When the 
box was wound up, and the tinkling sounds were heard, they 
gazed on it with an expression more of awe and fear than of 
wonder. It was difficult to get any one to venture near it, far less 
to allow it to touch Ids head. But once this was accomplished, it 
was truly delightful to see the revolution which those beautiful 
notes, as they souuded clear and loud through the Arab skull, 
produced upon the features of the listener. The anxious brow 
was smoothed, the black eye lighted up, the lips were parted in a 
broad smile which revealed the ivory teeth, and the whole man 
seemed to become humanised as he murmured with delight, 














EASTWARD. 


96 


“ tayeeb, tayeeb ” (good, good). When once the fears of one were 
dispelled, the others took courage, until there was a general 
scramble and competition, from the village patriarch down to his 
grandchildren, to hear the wonderful little box which could ring 
such marvellous. music through the brain. We respectfully re¬ 
commend the small “ musical snuff-box ” to travellers. Even at 
sea, when the storm on deck blows loudly, and the waves are rude 
and boisterous, and the passengers sleepy or unamiable, and read¬ 
ing difficult, and the thoughts not bright, they will find that the 
box—never sea-sick—wound up and allowed to twitter and tinkle 
old familiar airs, will prove a very cheerful companion. But let 
me warn any traveller following us in our route, that should he 
hear an Arab attempting to sing “ Home, sweet home,” or “Ah, 
che la morte" not to attribute too hastily a purely Eastern origin 
to these airs. 

I did not find my first night in a tent either ideal or agreeable. 
The ear was as yet unaccustomed to the heterogeneous noise 
which found an easy entrance through the canvas. All night the 
horses and mules seemed to be settling old quarrels, or to be in 
violent dispute about some matters of personal or local interest ; 
a scream, a kick, a stumble over the tent ropes—shaking our frail 
habitation and making us start—appeared to mark a climax in 
the argument. The Arabs kept up an incessant jabber all night 
—as it seemed to me. The voices, too, of Meeki and Hadji were 
constantly heard amidst the Babel. Every village, moreover, has 
its dogs without number : and these barked, howled, and flew about 
as if smitten with hydrophobia, or in full cry of a midnight chase. 
One imagined, too—or, worse than all, believed—that some of those 
wolfish and unclean animals were snuffling under the canvas 
close to the bed, or thumping against it, as if trying to get an 
entrance. And if this living creature rubbing against your thin 
wall was not a dog, might it not be an Arab ?—and if an Arab, 
might he not have a gun or dagger ?—and then ! But all these 














JAFFA. 


97 


experiences belonged to our novitiate. Very soon, between in¬ 
creased fatigue by day, and increased sleep by night, till it could 
increase no more without becoming apoplectic, all such thoughts 
and fears vanished, until dogs might bark, horses kick, Arabs talk, 
and camels groan, without disturbing us more than the waves 
disturb Ailsa Craig or Gibraltar, 




o 














NEBY SAMWIL. 


I have already stated that there are two great thoroughfares 
from Jaffa to Jerusalem—the one by Rarnleh, and the other by 
the Beth-horons and Gibeon—and that we chose the latter. We 
did so that we might traverse the scene of Joshua’s great battle 
with the “ five kings,” and also obtain our first general view of 
Palestine, including Jerusalem, from Neby Sarnwil. 

But before bringing the reader to this famous spot, and picturing 
to him as best we can, what we saw from it, we must begin, like 
most gossips, at the beginning, which in this case is our early start 
from the tent, when there is a scene common to all mornings in a 
Palestine tour. 

The tents and baggage precede the travellers, in order that 
everything may be ready on their arrival at the end of the day’s 
journey, which implies the tents pitched, the luggage arranged, 
the candles lighted, and the dinner ready. “ Where shall we 
encamp ? ” is therefore the first question for the day which must 
be discussed with the dragoman. It is one not always easy of 
solution ; for various matters must be taken into account—such as 
the distance to be travelled, the probability of pitching among 
civil neighboui's, or of finding a Sheik who may be known to the 
dragoman ; the supply of water, good shelter, and the chance of 
procuring provisions. The camping-ground being settled, pre¬ 
parations are made for the start. It is obviously most conducive 
to comfort to “ break the back of the day ” in the cool of the 
morning and before noon. It is therefore in vain that a lazy or 











NEBY SAMWIL. 


99 


sleepy man wishes to enjoy “ a little more sleep and a little more 
slumber ; ” in vain may lie, in the weakness of the flesh and for 
the credit of his conscience, assert, half asleep, half awake, that he 
had a restless night, for his companions testify to a continued 
snore from him like the burst of waves on a stony beach. Of 
course their testimony he indignantly rejects as incompetent,—• 
still he must rise ! At such moments—I write feelingly—the 
most sacred memories of holy places, the most eager desire to 
acquire knowledge, the poetry of Palestine travel, “ Robinson,” 
“ Stanley,” and “ Eothen,” lose their power to rouse. The whole 
being seems concentrated into a jelly, like the blood of St. Janu- 
arius. But in the meantime the pins of the tent are being pulled 
up. The ropes slacken, the tent-pole quivers, and to your horror 
you discover that your canvas dwelling is being taken down, and 
that in a few minutes, unless you staid up and get dressed, you 
will be exposed in bed in open daylight, to the gaze of a crowd 
of grinning Arabs with piercing eyes and white teeth, who are 
watching for you as the tag-rag of a town for the removal of the 
canvas which conceals the wild beasts at a show. Move you 
must, therefore move you do. Very soon thereafter the beds are 
rolled up, the baggage packed, and everything stowed away on 
horse or mule’s back, except the breakfast-table and camp stools 
around it, where the moveable feast is served up. But that pack¬ 
ing ! It was always a study to us, and never failed to excite 
remark and laughter. On such an occasion Meeki, the master of 
the horse, came out in the full strength of his power and passion. 
He reigned triumphant. His spirit seemed to inspire all the 
muleteers and the Arabs who assisted him, so that a common 
hysterical vehemence seized the whole group. They shouted, 
screeched, yelled, without a moment’s pause. All seemed to be in 
a towering passion at every person and everything, and to be 
hoarse with rage and guttural vociferation. Every parcel was 
strapped with a force and rapidity as if life depended on it. The 
















IOO 


EASTWARD. 


heavy packages were lifted with starting eyeballs and foaming 
lips on to the backs of the mules. One heard ever and anon a 
despairing cry as if from a throat clutched by a gar otter, “ Had— 
ji A—li!” which after a while drew forth the Chief with a calm 
and placid smile to decide the question in dispute. As the dread 
turmoil drew to a conclusion, the cook, the packing of whose 
utensils our breakfast necessarily retarded, became the great object 
of attention, and “ Mo—ham—med ! ” was syllabled with intense 
vehemence by the impetuous Meeki or one of his aids, whose pride 
and dignity prompted a careful imitation of the master. At last 
the long line of our baggage animals moved, with trunks of 
crockery, rolls of bedding, and piles of portmanteaus and bags. 
Off the loaded animals went at a trot, with the bells tingling 
round their necks, the muleteers following on foot, and driving 
them along the rough path at a far more rapid pace than we could 
follow. Meeki then took off his turban, dried his head, lighted 
his nargile, sat sideway son his dot of an ass, and brought up the 
rear of our cavalcade with a calmness and peace which had no 
traces of even the heavy swell that generally follows a hurricane 
by sea or land. Foaming and raging seemed to be the stereotyped 
way of doing business here, just as it is sometimes with preachers, 
who appear to think that vehemence, even in commonplace, is 
necessary as a guarantee of earnestness. 

One or two other characteristics of every spring morning in 
Palestine may be here mentioned. Nothing can exceed the 
buoyant, exhilarating atmosphere. The dews of night, which are 
so heavy that any garments left out become saturated with 
moisture as if soaked in a tub of water, seem to invigorate the air 
as well as the vegetation. There is consequently a youth, life, 
and fragrance in these mornings which cannot be surpassed even 
in the higher valleys of Switzerland, where the air is such that one 
can breathe it as a positive luxury. It is at these times, when the 
grass is heavy with dew, and the flowers give out their odour, and 



















NEBY SAMWIL. 


IOI 


the air is cool and clear as crystal, and the body is refreshed with 
sleep—and, let us add, with breakfast—and the mind is on the 
qui vive for sights, and the memory full of the past, and our horse 
up to the mark, and the path tolerable, and the whole party well, 
hearty, and agreeable—it is at these times that one most rejoices 
in existence, feels it to be all “ May from crown to heel,” and 
blesses Providence for the great mercy of being in the Holy Land. 
As the day advances, and the sun begins to pour down his heat, and 
the flesh becomes weak, the tents somehow appear to be too far off. 

The cavalcade generally rides along in single file. There is 
seldom a path, or a bit of meadow, which permits of two jogging 
on together. But there is, after all, no great disadvantage in this 
limitation of riding space or of social conference, as there is no 
country in which silent thought and observation during a journey 
are more congenial than in Palestine. 

The deliberate choosing of a Scripture scene for a place for 
lunch, at first sounded as if it were an irreverence. Hadji rides up 
and inquires—“ Where shall we lonch, Hakeem Pasha 1 ” adding 
with a humble smile: “Where you please! All same to me.” 
Where shall it be ? At Bethlehem ? Bethel ? Shiloh ? Nain ? is 
discussed by the party. At first thought, it seems out of place to 
propose such a carnal thing as lunching on hard eggs and cold 
lamb at such places. Yet at these places one lunches or dines, as 
the Patriarchs did before them. 

The path by which we ascended the Judean hills from the plain 
to the ridge at Gibeon is not, I believe, so rugged as the other 
leading from Jaffa to Jerusalem by Ramleh, but it is nevertheless 
one of the worst traversed by us in Palestine. With few ex¬ 
ceptions, indeed—as when crossing a plain, or some rare bit of 
tolerably level country—the so-called roads are as rough as the 
bridle-paths across the Swiss or Highland hills. They are either 
covered with loose stones, which act as hollows for the horses’ feet, 
or are worn down, by the travelling over them since the days of 















102 


EASTWARD. 


the Canaanites, into narrow ditches cut deep into the living rock ; 
or they go across slippery limestone ledges ; or over a series of big 
stones with deep holes between ; or are the channels of streams, 
which have the one advantage of being supplied with water to 
cool the hoofs of the floundering quadrupeds. But the horses are 
remarkably sure-footed, and the only danger arises from their 
riders ’checking them with the bridle, rather than letting them 
take their own way, and step with judicious thoughtfulness, as it 
often seemed to us, from stone to stone, picking their way with 
marvellous sagacity. Their pace is very slow. Not but that a 
rider with a “ noble Arab steed ” can manage to dash along and 
make “ the stony pebbles fly ” behind him ; but this requires 
a good horse familiar with the ground, and a good rider as 
thoroughly acquainted with his horse. Ordinary mortals who like 
safety, not to speak of ease, take it quietly at the rate of three 
or four miles an hour. The length of the day’s journey varies; 
but it is seldom under seven, and hardly ever above ten hours, 
including the time consumed at lunch and rest in the heat of the 
day (which is generally more than an hour), and in examining 
objects of interest en route. 

We paced slowly upwards over polished limestone or marble 
rocks, in some places actually up artificial steps. One hour from 
Jimsu brought us to the lower Beth-horon, now called Beitur El 
Talita; another hour to the upper Beth-horon, or Beitur El Foca.* 
In two hours more we reached the upland plateau, and after cross¬ 
ing the ridge saw Gibeon (El Jib) before us. Passing it on its 
eastern side, near which our tents were pitched, we ascended Neby 
Samwil. 

I shall return to some features of the ascent, and the story of 
this famous road, but must in the meantime ask the reader to 

The view from the roof of the Sheik’s house at the upper Beth-horon should 
be seen by eveiy traveller. 




























































































































NEBY SAMWIL. 103 


accompany me, with open eyes and heart, not forgetting fancy, to 
the height which we have reached in our journey Eastward. 

There is not, I venture to affirm, in all Palestine, nor, if historical 
associations be taken into account, in the whole world, such a view 
as that seen from Neby Samwil. This is not because of its height 
(2650 feet)—though it is the highest point in Palestine, Hebron 
excepted—but from its position in relation to surrounding objects. 
This makes it a sort of centre, commanding such views of the 
most illustrious spots on earth, as no other place affords. 

It was from this summit—so at least it is said—that Richard 
Coeur de Lion first beheld Jerusalem, and exclaimed, as he covered 
his face: “ Ah, Lord God, I pray that I may never see thy Holy 
City, if so be that I may not rescue it from the hands of thine 
enemies.” From hence also the great mediaaval poet Juda Halevi 
is supposed to have first beheld the sacred city, and to have had 
those glowing memories and passionate sorrows awakened which 
he has embodied in a poem yet famous among his people, and 
which pours forth a wailing lament that finds an echo in the heart 
of all the outcast children of Israel. I know it only through a 
German translation read to me nearly twenty years ago by my 
very learned friend Dr. Biesenthal, of Berlin, himself of the seed 
of Abraham. The sentiment in one of the verses has clung to me 
The poet, as he gazes at Jerusalem, cries out of a depth of sorrow 
which is past feeling, and turns the heart into stone. He wishes 
to feel and consciously to realise the misery which the spectacle of 
his “ mother, dear Jerusalem,” and the triumph of the heathen 
over her, ought to inspire. And so he sings to this effect:— 

O God! my cup of sorrow is too full! 

I cannot feel the grief I wish to feel. 

Take from it one drop—another—yet another—• 

Then shall I drink it to the very dregs! 

I mention these associations, for they were those that came to 







104 


EASTWARD. 


me at the time, with many others, like tumultuous wav r es from the 
past, mingled too with much that was painfully trivial: the 
common effect of that strange reaction from the tension of the 
mind, experienced on such occasions as the present, when ap¬ 
proaching a moment in life that is to divide for ever what has 

been longed for from what is to be realised, and become hence- 
© 

forward only a memory. We have all experienced at such times 
the choking at the heart, the suppressed emotion, as the dream of 
years is about to become a reality. In a few minutes, when that 
height is gained, we shall have seen Jerusalem ! So I felt, but in 
a less degree, when approaching Niagara, and when I was led 
blindfolded to the edge of the Table-rock, in order that the whole 
glory of the ocean of water pouring into the seething abyss might 
at once be revealed. But what was any scene on earth in com¬ 
parison with the one which we were about to gaze on ! 

The summit was reached in solemn silence. There was no need 
of a guide to tell us what to look at first. Every face was turned 
towards Jerusalem. The. eye and heart caught it at once, as they 
would a parent’s bier in the empty chamber of death. The round 
hill dotted with trees, the dome beneath, the few minarets near it, 
—there were Olivet and Jerusalem! No words were spoken, no 
exclamations heard ; nor are any explanations needed to enable 
the reader to understand our feelings when seeing, for the first 
time, the city of the Great King. 

After a time we began with suppressed eagerness to search out 
other objects in the landscape, and the curiosity became intense 
to identify its several features ; and then we heard words breathed 
quietly into our ears, as an arm was stretched out directing us to 
several famous spots whose names were holy, and which summoned 
up the most illustrious persons and events in the memory of the 
Christian. But I must patiently consider the panorama more in 
detail, that we may learn something from it, for we cannot stand 
on any spot in Palestine from which we can see or learn more. 






















NEBY SAMWIL. 


105 


After Jerusalem, the first object that arrested me was the range 
of the hills of Moab. There are many places in Palestine that, 
when first seen, are to us as old friends. Previous reading 1 , and 
illustrations, have made them familiar. But though I was in some 
degree prepared to recognise the range of- Moab as a remarkable 
feature in the landscape, and as telling on the scenery of “ the 
land ”—yet somehow the reality far surpassed my expectation. 
These mountains reared themselves like a-straight unbroken wall, 
not one peak or point breaking the even line along the eastern 
sky from north to south. They were not higher above the level 
ot the sea than the place on which we stood ; yet they seemed 
to form a gigantic barrier between us and the almost unknown 
country beyond, and their effect on the character of the landscape 
was decided. They were a frame—or setting—to it, giving it a 
dignity, elevation, strength, and majesty, without which it would 
have been flat, tame, and comparatively uninteresting. No doubt 
we saw the range in the most advantageous circumstances. It 
was towards evening. The setting sun fell upon it, and upon the 
wild eastern shores of the Dead Sea at its base, the sea itself 
being hidden in its deep hollow grave. The light was reflected 
from every scaur and precipice, with such a flush of purple, 
mingled with delicate hues of amethyst and ruby, as produced a 
glory not exaggerated in Holman Hunt’s picture of “ The Scape 
Goat.” The atmosphere, too, was so transparent, that we dis¬ 
tinctly saw beyond the Dead Sea what appeared to us a white 
building, situated on a point, in a straight line, over or near 
Jerusalem. Was this Kerak ? There are no other human 
habitations in that direction. 

The next thing that impressed me, standing here, was the 
smallness of the land. We saw across it. On one side was the 
great sea, on which sails were visible ; on the other, the range of 
Moab, which is beyond the eastern boundary of Palestine. To the 
south we saw within a few miles of Hebron; while to the north 














io6 


EASTWARD. 


we discovered the steep promontory of Carmel plunging its beak 
into the sea. It is difficult to conceive that the Palestine of the 
Patriarchs—that is, the country from the inhabited “ south ” to 
the great plain of Esdraelon, which, like a green strait, sweeps 
past Carmel to the steeps above the Jordan, and separates the old 
historical land of Canaan from Galilee—does not extend further 
than the distance between Glasgow and Perth, and could be tra¬ 
versed by an express train in two or three hours. But so it is. 
The whole land, even from Dan to Beersheba, is not larger than 
Wales. We saw not only the entire breadth but almost the entire 
length of the Palestine of the Patriarchs from the height of Neby 
Samwil. 

To some extent the general structure of the country was also 
visible. We had to the west the dead flat Philistine plain skirting 
the Mediterranean, and spreading itself about ten miles inland, 
where it, like a sea, formed green bays at the foot of the Judean 
hills. We were standing on one of the rugged sides of that 
central mountain ridge of Palestine, which, like a capsized flat- 
bottomed boat of corrugated iron, lay between the sea and the 
Jordan. We were looking down from the keel of this boat, a few 
hundred feet above the undulating, rough table-land with its small 
hills, which, to carry out the rude simile, were stuck, like huge 
limpets, over the boat’s bottom. The other side of the gunwale 
rolled over out of sight, and rested on the plain of the Jordan, 
which rushed along its outer edge, while the wall of Moab rose 
beyond. One end of this same capsized boat descended to the 
plain of Esdraelon, the other to the desert beyond Hebron. Its 
corrugated sides are the Wadies that cut deep towards the Philis¬ 
tine plain on the west, and the plain of the Jordan on the east. 

And how did the land look ? Was it picturesque ? Had it 
that romantic beauty of hill and dale, that look of a second 
Paradise which one has sometimes heard in descriptions of it from 
the pulpit ? Well, it did not give me this impression,—but what 














NEBY SAMWIL. 


107 


then ? What if it is not to be compared with a thousand spots in 
our own island—which by the way includes within its rocky 
shores more scenes of varied beauty than any other portion of the 
earth ;—what if Westmoreland and Wales, not to speak of the 
Scotch Highlands, contain landscapes far more lovely than are to 
be found in Palestine ? Still Palestine stands alone ;—alone in 
its boundaries of seas and sandy deserts and snow-clad mountains ; 
and alone in the variety of its soil, climate, and productions. I do 
not claim for it either beauty or grandeur—which may be found 
in almost every region of the globe—but I claim for it jDeculiarities 
and contrasts to which no other region can afford a parallel. Grant 
its present poor condition, its rocks without a covering, its streams 
dried up, its tillage neglected, its statuesque scenery unsubdued by 
the mellowed and softening influences of a moist atmosphere, 
its roads rough, its hills bare, and its limestone rocks unpro¬ 
tected by soil, its villages wretched hovels, its towns extinct, its 
peasantry slaves or robbers—what then ? Is there no poetry in 
this desolation which, if it does not represent the past, is yet the 
picture which flashed before the spiritual eye of the mourning 
prophets ? Is there no poetry either in the harmony between 
the rocky sternness of the land and the men of moral thews and 
sinews which it produced ; or in the contrast between its nothing¬ 
ness as a land of physical greatness and glory, and the greatness 
and glory of the persons and events which were cradled in its 
little Wadies and its small rocky eminences ? Is there no poetry, 
nothing affecting to the imagination, in the physical structure 
of a country which is without a parallel on earth \ For within 
a space so small that the eye can take it in from more than one 
point, there are heights, like Hermon, covered with eternal snow, 
and depths like the Jordan valley with a heat exceeding that of 
the tropics ; there is on one side the sea, and on the other a lake 
whose surface is 1300 feet lower down, with soundings as deep 
agfain. Where is there such a river as the Jordan, whose turbulent 
















io8 


EASTWARD. 


waters never gladdened a human habitation, nor ever irrigated a 
green field,—which pursues its continuous course for 200 miles 
within a space easily visible, and ends at last in the sea of death 
never to reappear ? Where on earth is there such a variety of 
vegetation, from the palm on the sultry plain to the lichen beside 
the glacier?—where such howling wildernesses, such dreary and 
utterly desolate wastes, with such luxuriant plains, fertile valleys, 
pasture lands, vineyards, and corn-fields ?—where such a climate, 
varying through every degree of temperature and of moisture ? 

Of a truth the beautiful is not necessarily associated with what 
stirs the human mind to wonder and admiration. Who thinks of 
the beautiful when visiting a churchyard, where the great and 
good lie interred ; or a battle-field, where courage and self-sacrifice 
have won the liberties of the world ; or a spot like the bare rough 
rock of the Areopagus on which stood the lowly, unknown, 

despised Jew revealing truths to Athens such as Plato the 

heavenly and Socrates the God-fearing had never discovered ? 
Or who thinks of the beautiful in thinking about Paul himself, 
“ whose bodily presence was weak,” although he was the greatest 
man as a teacher that ever lived ? 

Not for one moment then did I feel disappointed with Palestine. 
It was the greatest poem I ever read, full of tragic grandeur and 
sweetest hymns. I did not look for beauty, and therefore was not 
surprised at its absence ; but I did look for the battle scenes— 
for the Marathon and Thermopylae—of the world’s civilisation, 
and for the earthly stage on which real men of flesh and blood, 

but full of the spirit of the living God, played out their grand 

parts, and sung their immortal songs, which have revolutionised 
the world, and I found it no other than I looked for, to my cease¬ 
less joy and thanksgiving. 

Excuse, good reader, these digressions; and let us once more 
attend to the details of the landscape. 

Look with me towards the west. Our backs are consequently 






















to the hills of Moab, and our faces toward the “great sea,” which 
stretches as an immense blue plain, ending in the horizon, or 
rather in a drapery of luminous cloud no one can exactly say 
where. The shore you see is a straight line running north and 
south ; and we can distinguish at this distance of, say twenty 
miles, the long sandy downs that separate the blue sea from the 
green sea of plain. Look southward along the shore—that pro¬ 
truding point of the Judean hills conceals Askelon from us, that 
confused-looking mound on the plain, marks the site of Ashdod : 
another smaller Tell, scarcely visible, a little to the left of Ramleh, 
is Ekron. We are already acquainted with Ramleh and Lydda, so 
distinctly seen beneath us on the plain. Beyond them is Jaffa, 
our old friend, like a grey turban on its hill. Now, carrying the 
eye along the sea from Jaffa northward, you perceive, over the 
low spurs of the hills which conceal the rest of the sea-shore, that 
headland—it is Carmel! 

This view gives us an excellent idea of the relationship between 
the uplands of Judea, on which we stand, and the alluvial plain 
of Philistia and Sharon, whose rich soil, rich pastures, and rich 
corn-fields, its harbours and access to the sea, and its adaptedness 
to war chariots, accounts to us for the numbers and power of its 
bold and unscrupulous inhabitants. 

Now let us turn in the opposite direction, from the sea to the 
west, with the range of Moab along the skyline opposite to us, 
and the table-land of Judea, a few miles broad, at our feet. Look¬ 
ing to the right, southward, we see the undulating hills around 
and beyond Bethlehem, which is itself unseen, being nestled 
lower down. That marked summit rising beyond Bethlehem, 
like a mound between us and the golden hills of Moab, is Jebel 
Fureidls, where Herod lies buried. Nearer, but in the same 
direction, and about six miles off, are Jerusalem and Olivet. Right 
under us, the eye slowly passing northward, we see the conical hill 
of Jabel Ful, or Gibeali of Saul ; onwards to the north, on our left 













I IO 


EASTWARD. 


is the country round Bethel, with El-Ram, Geba, and Micmash : 
while further beyond, the mountains of Ephraim cluster on the 
horizon, and shut in our view. Beside us is Gibcon, and the scene 
of the great battle of Beth-horon, which completes our circle and 
carries us back to the point from which we started. 

The slightest idea of this panorama, the faintest impression 
which' words (assisted by the map) can convey, will suggest to the 
reader what we realised in gazing upon it—that, on the whole, it 
is the most interesting view in the world. 

But we are not yet done with Neby Samwil, if our readers will 
have patience and tolerate us and our geography a little longer. 
The hill is a great teacher—a comment on Scripture—a light to 
its sacred pages—a photographer of its stories. For the history of 
Palestine cannot be separated from its geography. What a con¬ 
fused idea of the history of Great Britain, for instance, would a 
man have, if to him Edinburgh was at Land’s End, and London 
near Aberdeen ; the Highland hills in Hampshire, or the midland 
counties in Skye or Caithness ? What would be the history of 
modern Europe to him, if his Waterloo was in the Danubian 
Provinces, and Moscow at Inverness ? Yet such an arrangement 
of places is not more incongruous than are the ideas of many 
tolerably intelligent people whom I have met, with regard to the 
geography of Palestine. 

Now we see with our own eyes, from Neby Samwil, the scenes, 
as I have said, of several Scripture narratives. 

As we look down on the maritime plain, we see Azotus 
(Aslidod), where Philip was found, and follow his track along 
the sea-shore as he passed northward to Caesarea.* In Aslidod 
and Ekron, both visible, abode the ark of God for seven months. 
We see Lydda, where Paul healed Eneas ; Joppa, from which 
they sent for him when Dorcas died, and from which he after- 

* “ But Philip was found at Azotus: and passing through he preached in all 
the cities, till he came to Caesarea.” 


















NEBY SAMWIL. hi 


wards journeyed to meet Cornelius, also at Gesarea.* Here we 
trace for the first time the footsteps of St. Paul, for down this 
path by the Beth-horons he probably descended twice from 
Jerusalem to Caesarea—in both cases to save his life.*f* 

Standing here, we understand also the great battle which Joshua 
waged against the petty, yet, in their own place and amongst their 
own numerous tribes, powerful chiefs of the heathen people of the 
land. For at our feet is the hill on which the village of El-Jib is 
now built, but which, as I have said, represents the old city of 
Gibeon, the capital of a numerous though not very valiant clan, 
and which commanded this great pass from the plain to the Jordan. 
From this spot went those cunning diplomatists, the Gibeonites, to 
deceive Joshua, their want of truth all the while arising from a 
practical faith in Joshua as a great general and a veritable con 
queror of the land. And out of those as yet to us unseen depths 
which plunge from the table-land of Judea towards the Jordan, 
Joshua and his host made that wonderful march by night up 
3000 feet and for about twenty miles, until he reached Gibeon, his 
army in the morning rising like the sudden flood of a stormy sea, 
column after column pouring over the ridge into the upland plain 
round El-Jib, on which the heathen host were encamped, then 
dashing among them, and sweeping them over the western ridge 

* “ And it came to pass, as Peter passed through all quarters, he came down 
also to the saints which dwelt at Lydda. . . . And all that dwelt at Lydda and 
Saron sa-w him, and turned to the Lord. . . . And forasmuch as Lydda was nigh to 
Joppa, and the disciples had heard that Peter was there, they sent unto him two 
men, desiring him that he would not delay to come to them.” 

f “ And he spake boldly in the name of the Lord Jesus, and disputed against the 
Grecians : but they went about to slay him. Which when the brethren knew 
they brought him down to Caesarea, and sent him forth to Tarsus.” 

“ And when it was day, certain of the Jews banded together, and bound them¬ 
selves under a curse, saying that they would neither eat nor drink till they had 
killed Paul. . . . And he called unto him two centurions, saying, Make ready two 
hundred soldiers to go to Caesarea, and horsemen threescore and ten, and spear¬ 
men two hundred, at the third hour of the night. . . . And provide them beasts, 
that they may set Paul on, and bring him safe unto Felix the governor.” 






EASTWARD. 


I 12 


down the wild steeps that lead to the Philistian plain. The 
battle-field explained the battle. The rout must have been ter¬ 
rible ! I have visited many battle-fields, but except those where 
Suwarrow fought in the High Alps, or those in the Pyrenees 
where Wellington encountered Soult, I never saw any so wild as 
this. From the dip of the strata rocks clothe the sides of the hills 
like the scales of a huge monster, overlapping each other, yet 
leaving deep interstices between. Steep gorges and narrow valleys 
cleave the hills as with deep gashes on every side of the road. After 
riding up the ascent to the plain of Gibeon, we understood how a 
demoralised army would in flight become utterly powerless, and, if 
panic-stricken, be hurled over each succeeding range of rocks.* 

Down beneath us was a green bay running from Philistia into 
the bosom of the hills. It was Ajalon ! The Arabs call it Ycilo. 

But it is time to withdraw our gaze from the distant landscape, 
and our thoughts from what it suggests, and come back once more 
to Neby Samwil. The spot itself calls up many memories of the 
past. Here, probably, was the famous “ High Place ” of Gibeon, 
where the tabernacle constructed by Moses, and which had been 
the moveable temple throughout the wilderness journey, was 
pitched, after many wanderings, until Solomon’s Temple was built 
at Jerusalem.j* Here public worship was conducted, by a staff of 
priests appointed by David, around the brazen altar of Moses ;— 
for “ he left there before the ark of the covenant of the Lord 
Asaph and his brethren, to minister before the ark continually, as 

* See Appendix. 

f It is, I think, extremely unlikely that the lower hill of Gibeon, on the 
northern portion of which El-Jib is built, and which is almost concealed in an up¬ 
land flat fenced off by an encircling ridge, should, as some suppose, have been the 
high place of Gibeon, instead of Neby Samwil, which stands up like a high altar, 
visible from the surrounding country. I agree with Dr. Stanley in believing that 
neither was Mizpeh the high place. The mere fact of the stones of Ram ah having 
been brought to Mizpeh makes it, to say the least of it, extremely improbable that 
they were carried to this high place. Scopus meets the whole requirements of the 
case. 








NEBY SAMWIL. 


ii3 


every day’s work required: and Obed-edom with their brethren, 
threescore and eight; Obed-edom also the son of Jeduthun and 
Hosah to he porters ; and Zadok the priest, and his brethren the 
priests, before the tabernacle of the Lord in the high place that 
was at Gibeon, to offer burnt-offerings unto the Lord upon the 
altar of the burnt-offering continually morning and evening, and 
to do according to all that is written in the law of the Lord, which 
he commanded Israel; and with them Heman and Jeduthun, and 
the rest that were chosen, who were expressed by name, to give 
thanks to the Loi'd, because his mercy endureth for ever; and 
with them Heman and Jeduthun with trumpets and cymbals for 
those that should make a sound, and with musical instruments of 
God. 1 And the sons of Jeduthun were porters. And all the 
people departed every man to his house : and David returned to 
bless his house.” It was the scene, too, of one of the most 
imposing pageants ever witnessed in Judea, when Solomon, with 
all that show, splendour, and magnificence which are associated 
with his name, " went to Gibeon to sacrifice there, for that was the 
great high place ; a thousand burnt-offerings did Solomon offer on 
that altar.” Here, too, “ in Gibeon, the Lord appeared to Solomon 
in a dream by night, and God said, Ask what I shall give to thee.” 
And he a.sked wisdom, and got it. 

I left the top of Neby Samwil with devoutest thanksgiving, 
feeling that, if I saw 110 more, but were obliged to return next day 
to Europe, my journey would have been well repaid, As the sun 
set, we descended the steep and rugged hill to our tents. We 
fully enjoyed the comfort and repose which they afforded. Nubi 
was busy with the dinner ; Meeki was enjoying his nargile, while 
all around were kneeling camels, belonging to-some travelling 
Arabs, chewing their evening meal of chopped straw, in which the 
horses and mules of our cavalcade heartily joined them. “ With 
one stride came the dark”—yet a dark illumined by those clear 
stars which we never grew weary of looking at in this glorious 

Q 













EASTWARD. 


114 


sky. By-and-by the chatter of the Arabs from Gibeon grew less, 
and the crowd dispersed. Even Meeki seemed to be dozing. The 
camel-drivers wrapped themselves in their cloaks, and lay curled 
up on the ground, like brown snails, beside their meek-eyed 
beasts. The quadrupeds, too, after paying off a few private griev¬ 
ances with sundry kicks and sharp cries, sank into silence : at 
least I supposed they did so, for I, with my companions, soon fell 
into deep sleep on ground where Hivite and Perizzite had slept 
before me, and which had thundered to their tread as they rushed 
alonsr before the storm of Joshua’s fierce attack. 

Next morning we visited Gibeon (El-Jib) and its immediate 
neighbourhood. The view of it from the plain to the west given 
in the engraving, will give an idea of its limestone ledges 
and general appearance* The most remarkable thing about it 
belonging to the past is a spring in a large cave, to which worn 
steps, cut out of the rock, descend. Near this is a large pool, as 
large as that of Hebron, but dried up. It was most probably the 
scene of the battle a Voutrance between the men of Judah and 
Benjamin.-f* Here, too, Johanan fought the traitor Ishmael.t 


* The illustration of El-Jib (Gibeon) is copied from a photograph by Mr. Francis 
Bedford, taken during the tour of H.R.H. the Prince of Wales, and published by 
Messrs. Day and Son. I have pleasure in directing attention to this magnificent 
series of photographic views. 

f “ And Abner the son of Ner, and the servants of Ish-bosheth the son of Saul, 
went out from Mahanaim to Gibeon. And Joab the son of Zeruiah, and the 
servants of David, went out, and met together by the pool of Gibeon: and they 
sat down, the one on the one side of the pool, and the other on the other side of 
the pool. And Abner said to Joab, Let the young men now arise, and play before 
us. And Joab said, Let them arise. Then there arose and went over by number 
twelve of Benjamin, which pertained to Ish-bosheth the son of Saul, and twelve 
of the servants of David. And they caught every one his fellow by the head, and 
thrust his sword in his fellow’s side ; so they fell down together : wherefore that 
place was called Helkath-hazzurim, which is in Gibeon. And there was a very 
sore battle that day; and Abner was beaten, and the men of Israel, before the 
servants of David.” 

+ “ But when Johanan the son of Ivareah, and all the captains of the forces that 














X03UI0 




















NEBY SAMWIL. 


US 


As we descended from Gibeon, we saw the top of the hill of 
Gibeah of Saul, rising over the low eastern ridge. If the sons of 
the miserable, broken-hearted, but loving mother Rizpah, were 
hung up for months on the top of Gibeah, they could be seen 
from Gibeon by those who had demanded their cruel execution 
a horrid sight between them and the eastern sk} r ! 

When but a few minutes on our journey, and as we passed 
round the plain by the road which leads to Jerusalem, we weie 
attracted by a huge stone lying horizontally among others in a 
low rocky ridge close to the path on the left. Was this the gieat 
stone of Gibeon?”* We could not decide whether it was in situ 
or placed there by the hands of man—or, even if it was in situ, 
whether it was the stone. There ever and anon occur in Bible 
history notices of great stones, rocks, caves, wells, &c. -permanent 
objects in nature—which, if travellers had only time and patience 
to examine, would be to a large extent discoverable. 

We descended to the table-land of Judah before noon, and 
entered upon a broad, rough, stony path—the great northern road 
from Jerusalem to Galilee. We knew now that we were, for the 


were with him, heard of all the evil that Ishmael the sou of Nethaniah had done, 
then they took all the men, and went to fight with Ishmael the son of Nethaniah 
and found him by the great waters that are in Gibeon. Now it came to pass, that 
when all the people which were with Ishmael saw Johanan the son of Kareah and 
all the captains of the forces that were with him, then they were glad. So all the 
people that Ishmael had carried away captive from Mi/.pah cast about and re¬ 
turned, and went unto Johanan the son of Kareah. But Ishmael the son,of 
Nethaniah escaped from Johanan with eight men, and went to the Ammonites 
* “ When they were at the great stone which is in Gibeon, Amasa went be ore 
them. And Joab’s garment that he had put on was girded unto him and upon 1 
a girdle with a sword fastened upon his loins in the sheath thereo ; ant as ic 
went forth it fell out. And Joab said to Amasa, Art thou m health, my brother . 
And Joab took Amasa by the beard with the right hand to kiss him. But Amasa 
took no heed to the sword that was in Joab’s hand: so he smote him therewith m 
the fifth rib, and shed out his bowels to the ground, and struck him not again 
and he died. So Joab and Abishai his brother pursued after Sheba the son 0 

Bichri.” 














116 EASTWARD. 


first time, on the highway along which priests and kings, prophets 
and apostles, the holy men of old, and the One above all, had 
passed to and fro. We slowly came nearer Jerusalem. We passed 
over a grey ridge, like a roll of a sea wave, and saw the Damascus 
Gate before us. We turned down to the left, towards the north¬ 
east corner of the wall, and got among Mohametan tombs, which 
for some reason or other were being visited by a number of women 
draped and veiled in white. We descended a hundred yards or so 
until we reached the road that passes from Anathoth to the city ; 
travelled along it, with the Kedron valley to our left, and Olivet 
rising beyond,—the city wall crowning the slope to our right,—and 
then rode up to St. Stephen’s Gate, entered it, took off our hats as 
we passed the portal, but spoke not a word, for we had entered 
Jerusalem ! 





JERUSALEM (WITHIN THE WALLS). 


“ I SEE your next article is to be about Jerusalem,” remarked to 
me, the other day, a grave and kind friend, who I really believe is 
benevolent ettough to read my papers; “ and of course,” he con¬ 
tinued, “ you will be very serious now, and have no more jokes.” 
“ It is not my habit,” w r as my reply, “ to arrange beforehand when 
I shall laugh or weep; or at what point in my journey I shall 
smile or sigh : these emotions must come and go as the soul 

listeth.” “ No doubt, no doubt,” my friend said ; “ but-” and 

he paused as if in difficulty. “ But what ? ” I inquired. “ At 
Jerusalem, you knoAv, one must be cautious. It is a peculiar 
place—very. Excuse me, but I thought I would take the liberty 
of giving you the hint. Not that I care ; but there are people, 

you know—people who have odd notions—peojde who—who-” 

“ I understand,” I said. “ I am glad you do,” he continued, as if 
somewhat relieved ; “ for there are people who—who—yes, good 
people, and sensible people too—who do not understand a clergy¬ 
man if he-but I see you Understand what I would be at, and 

I need say no more.” Then turning round, he added, “ I don’t 
myself object to a joke at all, even in Palestine ; but there are 
people who—you understand ? Good bye ! ” 

Yes, I quite understood my friend, as Avell as the good people 
whom he described with so rmich clearness. 

I remember a lady, whose mind was engrossed with the question 
of the return of the Jews to Palestine, being dreadfully shocked 
by a religious and highly resjDectable man, who presumed to 

















EASTWARD 


118 


express tlie opinion in her hearing, that the time was not far 
distant when there might he a railway from Jaffa to Jerusalem, 



State of Jerusalem. 


1 Scopus 

2. Tombs of the Kings. 

3. Damascus Gate. 

4. St. Stephen's Gale. 

5. Golden Gate. 

6. David's Gate. 

7. Jaffa Gate. 

8. Pool of Hezekiah. 

1). Church of the Holy Sepulchre. 

10. Jalitd Ruin. 

11. Castle of David. 

12. Citadel. 


(From a drawing by Mr. 
Scale, 1084 yards to the inch. 

13. Pool ofBethesda. 

14. The Har&m, or Holy Place, 

containing, 

15. The Dome of the Rock, and 

16. The Mosques El-Aksa and 

Omar. 

17. Fountain of the Virgin. 

18. Pillar of Absalom. 

10 . Gethsemane. 

20*. Shoulder of the Mount of 
Olives, where “ He beheld 
the city, and wept over it.*' 


Fcrgusson.) 


21. F.nrogel. 

22. Upper Pool. 

23. Lower Pool. 

24. Summit of the Mount of 

Olives. 

25. Hill of Evil Counsel. 

26. Mount of Corruption. 

27. Village of siloam. 

28 . Pool of Siloam. 

29. Sepulchre of David. 


and the cry he heard from an English voice of, “ Bethlehem 
Station ! ” The fair friend of Israel thereupon drew herself up 






















JERUSALEM—WITH IN THE WALLS. 


i T9 


indignantly and exclaimed, “Pray, sir, don’t be profane!” The 
unfortunate friend of progress went home that night under the 
impression that, unknown to himself, he had hitherto been an 
infidel. Now who could joke about anything in Palestine with 
such a fair one as this for his reader ? 

Again, a relative of mine who visited Jerusalem a few years 
ago, met there a sea-captain and his wife. The vessel, a collier 
from Newcastle, which the former commanded, or possibly the 
latter, from her manifest influence over her husband, had taken 
refuge at Jaffa, and the captain had been induced by his lady to 
come up to Jerusalem to see the sights. My friend one day 
noticed a serious controversy going on, in low whispers, between 
the worthy pair, and accompanied by most dramatic looks and 
words, in which the wife seemed to be pleading some point with 
her husband, in whom signs of suppressed wonder, obstinacy, and 
anger were alternately manifested. Thinking they had got into 
some perplexity from which he might be able to relieve them, 
my friend meekly offered his services. “ Thank you, sir, most 
kindly,” said the lady. “ But I am really provoked with the 
captain; for he is, I am ashamed to say, sir, quite an unbeliever.” 
“ Humbug, my dear ! ” interrupted the captain. “ No humbug at 
all, sir,” replied his mate, addressing my friend, “ but wery expen¬ 
sive unbelief too, I do assure you; for what is the use, I’d like to 
know, of one’s paying a guide for showing you all them famous 
places if one does not, like the captain, believe what the guide 
says ? ” “ Easy, my dear,” protested the honest sailor, laying his 

hand quietly on his wife’s arm ; “ I knows and believes as well as 
you do the Scripturs, and knows that all them places are in the 
Bible ; but don’t let any of them guides come it over me so strong 
with their lies, and tell me that that hill is the Mount of Holives, 
and that other place the Holy Sepulchre, and Calvary, and all 
that sort of thing. I came here to please you, Anne Jane, but 
not to have all those tilings crammed down my throat; so belay. 


















120 


EASTWARD. 


I’ll pay for your sake, but I won’t believe them Jews: I knows 
them far too well; you don’t! ” Whether the captain was ever 
able to square the actual Jerusalem with his ideal one, I 
know not. 

Now these stories, literally true, only illustrate in a ludicrous 
form the fact, that many people have, like the captain, a Jerusalem 
of their own—full of the beautiful, the sacred, the holy, and the 
good—-but which is no more like the real Jerusalem than is the 
“New Jerusalem.” Hence, when they visit Jerusalem, they are 
terribly disappointed ; or when any traveller who has done so, 
describes it as he would any other city, and admits that he has 
felt some of the lighter and more ordinary emotions of humanity 
in it, it looks to them almost like profanity, or what some people 
call, with equal wisdom, “ irreverence.” 

But after all, there needs no effort to “get up” feeling in 
Jerusalem. It has no doubt its commonplace, prosaic features, 
more so indeed than most cities of the Eastern world ; but it has 
its glory, its waking-dreams, its power over the imagination and 
the whole spirit, such as no city on earth ever had or can have. 
Therefore I shall tell what I saw and felt in Jerusalem, how sun 
and shade alternated there, how smile and tear came and went in 
it, just as I would when speaking of any other spot on this 
material earth. 

Yet I entered Jerusalem with neither smile nor tear, but with 
something between the two ; for I had no sooner doffed my 
tabousch in reverence as I passed through St. Stephen’s Gate 
and experienced that queer feeling about the throat which makes 
one cough, and dims the ey r es with old-fashioned tears, than my 
horse—very probably owing to my want of clear vision—began to 
slide and skate and stumble over the hard, round, polished stones 
which pave or spoil the road. I heard some of my companions 
saving, “ Look at the Pool of Bethesda ! See the green grass of 
the Temple Area! We are going to enter the Via Dolorosa!” 















JERUSALE M—W IT H I N THE WALLS. 


I 2 I 


but how could I take in the full meaning of the words, when with 
each announcement a fore-leg or a hind-leg of my horse went oft' 
in a slide or drew back with a shudder, and when the horrors of 
broken bones became so present as for a moment to exclude all 
other thoughts ? “ Such is life,” as the saying is. And such were 

the prosaic circumstances of my entrance into Jerusalem. I tried, 
however, to make them more harmonious with my body and mind, 
by descending from my horse, handing him to Meeki, wiping my 
brow, and begging my brother to repeat some of his information, 
while I sat on a portion of an old wall to listen. 

Within a few yards of the Gate of St. Stephen, by which we 
entered, there was a large square space, into which we looked. It 



St. Stephen’s Gate. 


is a large tank, about'365 feet long, 30 broad, and 50 deep, with 
hinh enclosing walls, and is called the Pool ot Betliesda. The 
bottom is earth and rubbish ; but the ledge is sufficient, along its 
northern slope, to afford room for a half-naked Arab to plough it 
with a scraggy ass. Its porches and everything like ornament are 

R 

















122 


EASTWARD. 


gone, and nothing remains save the rough walls of this great bath. 
Some say it was the ditch of the fortress of Antonia; but we do 
not enter on such questions. 

Turning the eyes to the left you see, about fifty yards off along 
the city wall, southward, a narrow gateway opening into the bright 
green grass, looking fi’esh and cool. That is one of the entrances 
into the Haram Area, or the wide, open space where once stood 
the Temple. But we dare not enter it at present, for it is holy 
ground, and we must get a letter from the Pasha, and pay him a 
good backsheesh to secularize the spot sufficiently to admit us. 
We shall pay for the privilege, and visit it by-and-by. In the 
meantime let us walk to the hotel. Our path is along the so- 
called “ Via Dolorosa.” This is a narrow street, roughly paved, 
and hemmed in with ruined walls sadly wanting in mortar. In 
some parts there are arches overhead, and many delightful studies 
of old houses and ancient mason work, which, by the way, a young 
lady was sketching as we passed, seated on a camp stool, with a 
white umbrella over her head. How one’s thoughts went home to 
the happy English fireside, with paterfamilias, and brothers and 
sisters, looking over her drawings ! 

One repeats to himself as he goes along this street, “ The Via 
Dolorosa! ”—words so full of meaning, but which the street does 
not help to interpret; unless from its being, as seen “ in the light 
of common day,” a tumble-down, poverty-stricken, back lane, with¬ 
out anything which the eye can catch in harmony with the past. 

V as this the real “ Via Dolorosa ? ” But we must not begin 
with our scepticism as to places, or encourage those “ obstinate 
questionings” which constantly suggest themselves in Jerusalem. 
“ The Church,’ no doubt, makes up for the silence of authentic 
history by supplying, out of her inexhaustible store of traditions, 
a guide to pilgrims, which enables them to see such holy spots as 
the following:—“ The window in the ‘Arch of Ecce Homo,’ from 
which Pilate addressed the people,”—“ the place where Pilate 
















JERUSALEM—WITHIN THE WALLS. 


declared his innocence,”—“ where Jesus stood as He addressed 
him,”—“ where Mary stood near Him as He spoke,”—the several 

places “ where Jesus fell down under the weight of the cross,”_ 

the spot where Simon had the cross laid upon him,” &c. &c.* 
All Jerusalem is thus dotted by the Church with fictitious places, 



Via Dolorosa. 


in memoriam, to excite the devotion of the faithful. To their 
eye of “ faith ” the Via Dolorosa is necessarily a very different 
street from what it can possibly be to us whose “ faith ” is not 
quite so firm in tradition. 

After leaving the Via Dolorosa we passed through the bazaar, 
but it is poor, squalid, and unworthy of any particular notice, after 

* All such places are carefully noted in the lithographed “Album of Jerusalem,” 
(from photography,) published by Zoeller, Vienna. 












124 


EASTWARD. 


those of Cairo, or even Alexandria. There was the usual narrow 
path between the little dens called shops, with the accustomed 
turbans presiding over the usual wares—shoes, seeds, pipes, clothes, 
tobacco, hardware, cutlery, &c., while crowds moved to and fro 
wearing every shade of coloured clothes, and composed of every 
kind of out-of-the-way people, Jews, Turks, Greeks, Bedaween, 
with horses, asses, camels, all in a state of excitement. 

We then went to an hotel to call for a friend. How shall I 
describe these so-called hotels ? I cannot indeed now separate in 
memory one hotel from the other—and there are but three in Jeru¬ 
salem. They are, however, wonderfully confused and picturesque, 
with their rooms, corners, passages, outside stories from floor to 
floor, giving endless peeps of open sky, with balconies and flat 
roofs, all huddled together like a number of hat-cases, or band- 
boxes, and approached, not as in other countries by an imposing 
door, over which hangs an enormous gilt sign of the Golden Bull, 
or Spread Eagle, or by an open court, beyond which drays, gigs, 
and carriages are seen, but by a steep, narrow trap stair, which 
ascends from a door in the street, but which is more a slit in the 
wall than a door, and might conduct from a condemned cell to 
the gallows. This sort of architecture is very characteristic of a 
country where, in a moment’s notice, or without it, the orthodox 
descendants of the Prophet might take it into their turbaned 
heads to gain heaven by attacking the hotel, under the influence 
of some fanatical furor. “ There is no saying! ” as the cautious 
and timid affirm when they expect some mysterious doing. And 
thus the steep stair rising from the narrow door, would act as a 
mountain pass for the defenders of the hotel; while the more 
extended battle-field of the open spaces above, overlooked by 
upper stories like overhanging precipices, would become strategic 
points of immense importance. The “ travellers’ room ” in this 
hotel is not unlike what one finds in small country inns in 
Britain. The back windows are in a wall which forms one of the 


































TOOL OF HEZEKIAH. 









































































































































































JERUSALEM—WITHIN THE WALLS. 125 


sides of the “ Pool of Hezekiali! ”—so-called. There the old reser¬ 
voir lay, immediately beneath us, with its other sides formed by 
walls of houses, their small windows looking into it just as the one 
did I gazed through. It was an odd association, when one with¬ 
drew his head and surveyed the room, to see placards on the wall 
advertising “ Bass ” and “ Allsopp.” No wonder the captain was 
sceptical as to his being in the Holy City of his early associations ! 

My first desire on entering the hotel was to ascend to the upper¬ 
most roof to obtain a glimpse of the city. I was enabled to gratify 
my wishes, and to see over a confusion of flat and domed buildings, 
pleasantly relieved here and there by green grass and trees. The 
elegant “ Dome of the Rock ” rose over them all, while above and 
beyond it was the grey and green Mount of Olives, dotted with 
trees. To take in this view at first was impossible. One repeated 
to himself, as if to drive the fact into his brain, or as if addressing 
a person asleep or half idiotic, “ That is the Mount of Olives ! 
that is the Mount of Olives ! Do you comprehend what I am 
saying?” “No, I don’t,” was the stupid reply ; “ I see that hill, 
and hear you repeat its name ; but in the meantime I am asleep, 
and dreaming; yet, as I know that I am asleep, perhaps this 
half-intelligent consciousness hopefully prophesies a waking up.” 

Before going to our own “ khan,” we went to the post-office, for 
letters from home. It was a queer sort of cabin, and was reached 
by a flight of outside stairs rising from the street leading to the 
Jaffa Gate. Letters from home ! Were you ever abroad, reader? 
If not, you cannot understand the pleasure of getting letters. It 
reminds us of the olden days when we left home for the first time. 
One of the blessings of travel is the new world, or rather series of 
worlds, into which it introduces us,—worlds no doubt of human 
beings singularly like ourselves; but yet to whom our whole circle 
of ordinary thought, and the ten thousand things which we 
believe, do, suffer from, or hope for,—all are utterly unknown and 
uncared for, just as the troubles of the landlord of a Jerusalem 





126 


EASTWARD. 


hotel are unknown to the Saltan and disturb not his repose. 
But this feeling of being the inhabitant of another world only 
enhances the delight of receiving letters from our old world, 
detailing the characteristic sayings and doings of the circle, smaller 
or greater, round the warm centre of that blessed spot called our 
fireside. It is singular how hazy many of our friends become in 
a few weeks. Old neighbours become myths, and local disputes 
faint echoes from a pre-existent state of being. 

Letters read, and good news received by all, we went to our 
hotel, which from a small board a foot or so long, nailed over the 
narrow door, we discovered to be “The Damascus.” Hadji Ali 
had procured for us three rooms on the first landing, which opened 
on a paved court whose roof was the glorious sky. The rooms 
were vaulted, clean, and comfortable, and not intolerably muggy. 
The beds had mosquito curtains, and the floors were flagged. The 
supply of water from a pump near our doors was unlimited. Our 
retainers had a space allotted to themselves, where they squatted 
like gipsies, cooked for us in the open air, and lived very much as 
they would have done in the desert. Meeki and his muleteers 
were the only absentees, and where they lived I know not. Very 
probably it was in the stables with their horses and asses, whose 
sleep they would no doubt disturb. Hadji and his coadjutors, 
Nubi the waiter and Mohammed the cook, took the sole charge of 
us while in this domicile; so that I do not know whether there 
were any persons in the hotel in the capacity of host or waiters. 
There were among its inhabitants an English party, whose ortho¬ 
doxy we can certify from their rising early, sometimes before the 
sun, to discharge their religious duties in the church of the Holy 
Sepulchre. Among them was an intelligent, agreeable, and pious 
High Church clergyman. They were housed in places reached by 
outside stairs, somewhere among the highest roofs of the many- 
roofed building. On the evening of our arrival, I climbed over 
their apartments, ascending to the highest point by a ladder, and 














JERUSALEM—WITHIN THE WALLS. 


12 7 


from thence I again saw Olivet, jost as the last rays of the sun 
were colouring it with a golden hue, and making the Dome of the 
Bock sparkle with touches of brilliant light. And from the same 
spot I saw it immediately before sunrise next morning, when the 
silence of the city, and the freshness of the air, and the shadows 
cast from the hill,gave it a quite different, but equally fascinating 
aspect. And thus slowly, but very surely, I began to feel that this 
was indeed the real Mount of Olives ! 

Never did I retire to rest with deeper thanksgiving than on my 
first night in Jerusalem. Ever and anon as the mind woke up, 
while the body gradually sank into repose, the thought, “ I am in 
Jerusalem !” more and more inspired me with a grateful sense of 
God’s goodness and mercy in having enabled me to enter it.* 

Before saying anything of next day’s visits, I must declare that 
I abjure all discussions, with a few exceptions afterwards to be 
noticed, as to the antiquities of Jerusalem; and shall give no 
opinion on any of its old walls, first, second, or third, nor upon the 
value of this or that closed-up archway or crumbling ruin. Like 
most travellers I had “ crammed ” to some extent before leaving 
home, and brought a box of books with me, and sundry articles 
and pamphlets to “ study ” on the spot. But finding my time 
short, and impressed with the utter impossibility of forming a 
sounder opinion on controverted questions in Jerusalem than in 
my own room at home, I vowed to separate myself from any of 
the party who mentioned “the tower Hippicus”—one of the 
bones, a sort of hip-joint, of great importance, and of great con¬ 
tention, in the reconstruction of the old skeleton. I preferred to 
receive, if possible, some of the living impressions which the place 
was fitted to impart; to get, if possible, a good fresh whiff from 
the past—an aroma, if not from Jerusalem, yet from Nature, 

* It may be worth mentioning that the only sound which broke the stillness of 
the night was the crowing of cocks. This never ceased. It is evident, therefore, 
that the hour when Peter denied his Lord cannot be fixed by the cock crowing. 

















128 


EASTWARD. 


unchangeable in her general features, as revealed on the slopes 
and in the valleys of Olivet, or in the silent recesses around 
Bethany. I succeeded in doing so, at least to my own satisfaction, 
from the moment I cut the tower Hippicus. 

One word more of preliminary remark. Within the walls—if 
we except perhaps the Temple Area, that one grand spot of 
surpassing interest in Jerusalem—there is not a street which 
either the Saviour or his Apostles ever trod. The present road¬ 
ways, if they even follow the old lines, are above the rubbish 
which “ many a fathem deep ” covers the ancient causeway. 
There is not one house standing on which we can feel certain that 
our Lord ever gazed, unless it be the old tower at the Jaffa Gate. 
So let us for the present dismiss every attempt to associate that 
past with “ the Jerusalem which now is.” We may feel disap¬ 
pointed at this, yet I believe that it is so. The heavens above and 
the hills around, not the streets beneath, are the same. 

It is modern Jerusalem, then, which in the meantime we must 
glance at; and the first place which naturally attracts us is the 
Church of the so-called “ Holy Sepulchre.” 

W e enter an inner court by a narrow doorway. Squatted on 
every side are rows of Easterns, who are selling, with well-defined 
profit-and-loss countenances, all the accompaniments of “ religious” 
worship—beads, incense, crucifixes, pilgrim shells, staffs, &c. &c. ; 
while a ceaseless crowd from all lands is passing to and fro. What 
the outside of this church is like, the accompanying illustration 
will tell better than any mere descrijAion. 

Now we must understand, first of all, that this church is a very 
large one, so that under the one roof are several chapels in which 
different “ communions ” worship. These do not of course call 
themselves “sects,” for that would look as if the one true 
Apostolic Church could be divided. Each church only calls every 
other a sect. But while there is this one true, Apostolic, Catholic 
Church, as distinct from the sadly divided Protestant Churches, 












THE OLD TOWEK AT THE JAFFA GATE, AND THE CITADEL. 








































































































































































JERUSALEM—WITHIN THE WALLS. 


yet a Protestant, much more an unfortunate Presbyterian, may be 
pardoned if he does not at once discover the fact when he enters 
the building—the only one, be it remembered, in universal 
Christendom where “Apostolic” Churches meet under one roof, to 
find their unity, as some allege, or their differences, according to 
others, around the tomb of Christ. The Greek Church, “ Catholic 
and Apostolic,” representing, as it does, some eighty millions of 



Ground Plan of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. 

1. Principal Entrance. I 4. Greek Chapel, and “Centre of 

2. Chapel of the Angel. . the Earth.*' 

3. Holy Sepulchre. j 5. Latin Chapel. 

the human race, has its chapel, adorned with barbaric splendour, 
in the centre, where it claims the sole privilege and honour of 
receiving once a year from Heaven, and of transmitting to the 
faithful—that is to the Greeks—miraculous fire representing the 
Holy Spirit. The Latins, as they are called in the East, the 
Catholics, as they call themselves, or the Papists, as some presume 
to call them, also have a chapel and service, and loudly profess a 
verv supreme contempt for the Greeks and their base supersti- 

s 






















130 


EASTWARD. 


tions—as if they themselves were perfectly innocent of such 
infirmities, and as if they had not for centuries, until they lost the 
privilege by accident, shared in the rites and gains of this Holy 
Fire ! The Greeks retaliate by expressing feelings of dislike and 
horror at “ the image worshippers.” The Copts and Armenians, 
as members of the one undivided Church, have also their chapels, 
whose size bears a relative proportion to the number of their 
followers. I have heard, I think, of one or two other “ Catholic 
and Apostolic Churches;” but these are not represented here. 
Indeed, apart from possible ecclesiastical reasons, there is really 
no room for them. For as the church pow stands, there is only 
sufficient space for the worship of those who possess it; and even 
they are sometimes inconvenienced for want of room when a 
stand-up fight takes place, and a ring cannot be formed. At the 
entrance of the church, seated on a divan to the right, are a few 
respectable, quiet-looking Turks, who stroke their beards, smoke 
their pipes, and are most benevolent, cZoMce-looking men. They 
are ready at any moment to show their kindness, at the risk of 
their turbans or even their lives, by throwing themselves between 
the various Orthodox Christians as they fight their fight of faith 
with each other even unto death* 

Now, whatever amount of evil may exist from the outward 
divisions, chiefly as to forms and government, in the Protestant 
Church, we can hardly conceive it culminating in jealousy, 
hate, and constant war, ending sometimes in those bloody battles 
which are witnessed at the only spot on earth where, from close 
personal contact, the “ unity ” of the “ Holy Orthodox Churches ” 
is fairly tested. We fancy that the “ Moderators ” of Presbyte¬ 
rian Assemblies, and the “ Presidents ” of Wesleyan or Congre¬ 
gational conferences, could meet with the Archbishops of the 


* At the famous Easter fight in the church, some thirty years ago, four hundred 
lives were lost! 
















JERUSALEM—WITHIN THE WALLS. 


13 * 


Church of England without giving one another bloody noses, or 
having a fight with sticks or mitres such as Donnybrook Fair, 
with all its Bacchanalian orgies, never witnessed. Our principles 
may not possibly be so orthodox, but our practices are on the 
whole more Christian. We are constrained, however, to admit 
that mere Protestantism is no security against the spirit of Popery, 
and that even Presbyterian may occasionally appear as “ Priest, 
writ large.” Yet after all, the amount of real evil resulting from 
our outward divisions, is immensely exaggerated, while the good 
arising from that exercise of Christian freedom and personal 
responsibility essential to true faith is forgotteu. 

Within this famous church, there are certain places and things 
shown, about whose authenticity all those witnesses for Catholic 
truth seem agreed. These are all connected with the last memo¬ 
rable scenes in the life and death of Him “ who was the Truth.” 
At the entrance of the church, for example, is a broad marble 
slab, where He was anointed for His burial. The Duke of 
Modena was kneeling and reverently kissing it as we went in. 
Close on the left is the spot “ where Mary stood while the body 
was anointing; ” and then upstairs and downstairs, in nooks and 
corners, amidst the blaze of lamps and the perfume of incense, 
here, and there, and everywhere, are other noteworthy places. 
What think our readers of such real spots as these :—“ where 
Christ appeared to Mary Magdalene as the gardener ; ” and “ to 
his mother after the resurrection ; ” and “ where his garments were 
parted ; ” and “ where He was mocked ; ” “ where He was bound ; ” 
where “ His friends stood afar off during the crucifixion ; ” “ the 
prison where He was detained while waiting for the crucifixion 
“ the holes in which the three crosses were inserted ; ” the very 
“ rent made in the rock by the earthquake ; ” and “ the place 
where the three real crosses were found ” 300 years afterwards, 
the true cross being discovered by its working a miracle ? All 
these “ sacred spots ” are marked by altars, crosses, &c. There are 
























EASTWARD. 


also to be seen in this marvellous museum the actual tombs of 
Adam (Eve unknown) and ot Melchizedek, and of John the 
Baptist, and of Joseph of Arimathea; finally, of our Lord. All 
these wonders are clustered round a spot which is in its way 
almost as great a wonder as any of the rest—“ the centre of the 
earth !” One asks, with reasonable curiosity, whether “ Protestan¬ 
tism,” left to the blind guidance of its own erring private 
judgment of the Word of God, with the Holy Spirit as its inter¬ 
preter, ever witnessed in any part of the earth to any falsehood, 
or any error, to be compared with tliose palpable lies which the 
“ Orthodox ” Churches ask us to accept, and this too beside what 
they believe to be the tomb of Jesus and the place of His 
crucifixion ! 

The Holy Sepulchre is not what many people suppose it to be. 
It is not a cave, or a hole in a rude rock ; but a small marble 
chapel, which rises up from the flat stone floor. 

The theory of this sort of sepulchre is, that the mass of the rock 
out of which it was originally hewn has been all cut away from 
around the mere slab on which our Lord’s body lay, leaving the 
slab or loculus only, and a thin portion of the original rock to 
which it adheres; just as we see a pillar of earth rise out of a 
flat in a railway cutting, marking where the original mass, of 
which it had formed a part, had been. In its present state, 
therefore, nothing can be more unlike a sepulchre than this. Not 
one atom of the original rock,—if it is there at all, which is 
doubted by not a few,—is visible, all being cased in marble. 
What a miserable desecration of the original cave, if it ever existed 
here ! What are we to think of the taste, or judgment, of those 
who dared to apply hammer or chisel to the holy spot ? It might 
with, almost equal propriety be transported now to be exhibited in 
Paris, London, or New York. There is not a trace existing of 
its original appearance. This chapel of “ the Holy Sepulchre ” 
consists of two small apartments, neither of which could hold 






THE CHURCH OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE 










































































































































































































































♦ 



























J 


JERUSALEM—WITHIN THE WALLS. 


above half-a-dozen persons. The whole chapel is but twenty-six 
feet high and eighteen broad. The first small closet, which is 
entered between gigantic candlesticks, is called the Chapel of the 
Angel, as being the place where it is alleged the angel rolled away 
the stone, a fragment of which is pointed out. Within this, 
entered by a narrow low door, is the sepulchre. It is seven feet 
long and nine broad. The roof is a small dome supported by 
marble pillars. The marble slab, which, it is said, covers the place 
where our Lord’s body lay, occupies the space to the right of the 
door as you enter. Over it are placed a few most paltry artificial 
flowers in pots, with some miserable engravings and votive 
offerings. Several small candles are always burning. The sale 
of these candles must yield a considerable revenue to the Church, 
as every pilgrim offers one, so that tens of thousands must each 
year be consumed. In addition to these candles, an immense 
number of gold and silver lamps—forty, I believe—are kept 
burning inside this small vault. 

I went on two occasions into the Holy Sepulchre. On the . 
second, I remained in silence beside the attending priest for about 
a quarter of an hour, and was deeply interested in the pilgrims, 
who entered in a ceaseless stream to do homage to the sacred 
spot. They came in, knelt, kissed the stone, prayed for a second, 
presented their candle, and retired to make way for others. It 
was impossible not to be affected by so unparalleled a spectacle. 
These pilgrims had come from almost every part of Europe at 
least. Greeks from the islands and shores of the Levant; 
Russians from the far-off steppes of Tartary, clothed in their 
sheepskin dresses; French, Italians, Germans, and Portuguese, 
of every age and complexion; old men with white beards, 
tottering on their pilgrim-staffs; friars and monks, with such a 
variety of costume and of remarkable physiognomy as could 
nowhere else be seen ;—faces stranger than ever crossed the 
imagination—some men that might have sat to an artist as his 




134 


EASTWARD. 


bean ideal of cut throat pirates, and others who might have 
represented patriarchs or prophets ; some women who were types 
of Martha or Mary, others of the Witch of Endor. The expression 
of most was that of stolid ignorance and superstition, as if they 
were performing a mysterious, sacred duty; but of others it was 
that of enthusiastic devotion. I shall never forget one woman 
who kissed the stone again and again, pressing her lips to it, 
as if it were the dead face of her first-born. It was a touch of 
nature which made one’s eyes fill, and was the most beautiful 
thing I saw in the church, except a fair child with lustrous eyes, 
who, indifferent to the grand spectacle of bishops and priests, was 
gazing at the light as it streamed through the coloured glass of 
one of the old windows. 

It was strange to think of those people who had come such 
distances to this one spot. How many had been hoarding their 
little fractions for years to defray the expense of the long journey ; 
how long they had planned it; how far they had travelled to 
accomplish it—that old Russian for example, with his big boots and 
hairy cap. What a thing this will be to them, when they go out 
of that door, and begin the journey homeward,—to tell all they 
saw, and to comfort themselves in life and death by the thought 
of their having made the pilgrimage and kissed the shrine ! And 
stranger far to think of how this stream of superstition, custom, 
divine love, or call it what we may, poured on through that door 
for centuries before America was discovered, or the Reformation 
dreamt of. All thoughts of the more distant past were lost to 
me in the remembrance of the Crusades, and of old romantic 
ballads about the mailed men, the lords of many a ruined keep, 
from the banks of the Scottish Tw r eed to the castellated Rhine, 
whose silent effigies in stone, with hands clasped in prayer, have 
reposed for ages in gorgeous cathedrals, rural parish churches, 
and far-away chapels on distant islands. My mind was filled 
with stories that told of how they came to visit this spot, how 




















JERUSALEM—WITH IN THE WALLS. 


they parted from their lady love, and travelled over unknown 
lands, encountering strange adventures, and voyaging over un¬ 
known seas in strange vessels, with stranger crews ; how they 
charged the Saracens in bloody battles, shouting their war cries, 
and at last reached—one in twenty perhaps—this spot so full to 
them of mystery and awe, here to kneel and pray as the great 
object and reward of all their sacrifices. 

Historically, I must confess that I had no faith whatever in 
this being the true Sepulchre. Had I thought so, it would only 
have filled me with pain, and with a deeper longing to be able to 
lift those pilgrims up from the shadow to the substance; to 
remind them with the voice of a brother, “ He is not here, but 
risen ! ” even while inviting them to “ come and see the place 
where the Lord lay.” Nor did I feel disposed to attach much 
moral blame to those who had long ago introduced this superstition. 
It is easy to realise the temptation, when teaching the ignorant 
masses, and attempting to interest them in an unseen Christ, and 
in spiritual worship, to supply them with a visible and sensuous 
religion of symbolism and relics, as a substitute for the reality, 
which it is assumed is too etherial for ordinary men to sympathise 
with. We know how all such human plans utterly fail. But 
perhaps we know this more from observing their actual results 
in Roman Catholic countries, than from any wisdom of our own. 
I do not therefore so much wonder at the original experiment, 
which was natural at least, as at the obstinate keeping up of it 
now that it has been found to sensualise instead of spiritualise the 
mind. But the presence of so much superstition filled me with 
unutterable pain. And perhaps the more so that it has been too 
long upheld to be now easily abolished,—lest in shaking the faith 
of the masses in this foolish dream we might shake their faith in 
the glorious reality. My displeasure at the spectacle may be 
thought by some to indicate the “ irreverence ” of a Presbyterian, 
unaccustomed to symbols and forms. For irreverence towards 




136 EASTWARD. 


lies, I thank God ! But even “ reverence ” has its own peculiar 
cant. And accordingly the Scotch peasant is often accused of 
“ awful irreverence ” merely for keeping on his old, oddly-shaped 
hat, when he enters a Scotch church—a relic this of an old protest 
against the folly of holy stone and lime—though he may he a 
peasant saint, a true temple himself of the Holy Ghost, fearing 
God, reverencing Him and his Word, guiding his life by its 
precepts, and drawing daily nourishment from its stores ; while, 
on the other hand, the Italian bandit is thought “ reverent ” who 
pauses in drawing the trigger of his pistol because his kneeling 
victim names his patron saint; and a “ Catholic nation,” like 
Spain, is considered “ reverent ” in comparison with Protestant 
England, though she baptises her war-ships “The Holy Ghost” 
(Spiritu Santo), or “ The Holy Trinity” (Santissima Trinadada) ! 
Reverence results from a sense of God’s presence, and is a con¬ 
sequent worshipping of Him in spirit and in truth—and the scenes 
at the Holy Sepulchre did not impress me with its existence there. 

In leaving it, however, I was comforted by the thought, that 
the Holy Spirit of God, who is perfect love and wisdom, and who 

1 _ * 

dispenses his gifts and graces to every man as He will, can “ fulfil 
Himself” in many ways, can discern and meet the truthful spirit 
seeking truth, and can impart the truth to it; and that, under 
wood, hay, and stubble, which are destined to be consumed, many 
a humble soul may here be building on the true foundation of 
faith in Christ alone. I also felt the awful responsibility attached 
to the blessed liberty which in God’s gracious Providence Pro¬ 
testants enjoy; for Protestantism is not itself a religion, but is 
only the most favourable condition for obtaining religion, and for 
enabling us to see the truth, and to know and love God our Father 
in Jesus Christ our Saviour. 

On the Lord’s Day, I had the privilege of worshipping in the 
church presided over by the good Bishop Gobat. How pure, how 
simple, how true and refreshing was the service ! It was not new 






JERUSALEM—WITHIN THE WALLS. 


•37 


to me. Though a Presbyterian, I had read it for months, long 
ago, abroad, to a congregation, and I have used it very often since 
then, in similar circumstances, while travelling. I have also read 
its burial service over the dead at sea. I have often communi¬ 
cated at the altar of the Church of England, with gratitude; and, 
in Jerusalem, I was thankful to worship with my brethren accord¬ 
ing to their forms. And which, I asked myself, was most in 
accordance with Apostolic practice—this, or that ? the forms of 
the Church of England (and the same question could be asked by 
me with at least equal force of those of the Church of Scotland), 
or those of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, with its incense, 
pictures, images, and mummeries ? It has been asked which 
Church “the Fathers” of the earlier and middle ages would 
recognise as theirs if they rose from the dead and visited the 
Roman Catholic and Protestant churches ? But what, I ask in 
reply, would have been the judgment of earlier and greater men, 
—the Aj)ostles ? What would St. Paul think ? Would he recog¬ 
nise the Church of the Sepulchre as more in accordance with his 
Christianity and his habitual forms of worship, than Bishop 
Gobat’s ? Of which would he say, This reminds me of the early 
Church ? It is impossible, I think, to doubt his reply. The 
Church of the Sepulchre would perhaps remind him of some of 
the features of the old Temple service which had passed away, 
with its attractiveness to the eye, and its “ carnal ordinances,” but 
not assuredly of his Apostolic Church. No, no ! Let us have 
worship in spirit and in truth, freed from all that can hinder, but 
including all that can assist, the living spiritual man to hold 
direct communion through Christ with the living God. 

There is one other spot within the walls of Jerusalem to which 
I would conduct the reader—yet with greater awe, with greater 
fear and trembling, from my feeling as to the unspeakable interest 
attached to it—and that is the Haram es Slierif, or the site of the 
old Temple, and, dare I add, of the real Holy Sepulchre ? 

T 




















133 


EASTWARD. 


It is but as yesterday—immediately after the Crimean War— 
that this sacred enclosure could be entered by any except Moslems, 
or those who cared to pass themselves off as Moslems at the risk 
of their lives. All, without respect of persons, but only of purse, 
can enter it now. There must no doubt be a few forms gone 
through, but these your dragoman manages ; and they are not 
more serious than what travellers are familiar with in most 
European cities, when “ orders ” have to be obtained, and signed 
and countersigned by heads of Police or of Government, while the 
“ guide ” or “ commissionnaire ” magnifies the difficulty of getting 
them, the secret in every case, East and West, being the old 
golden key-— backsheesh. To see the Temple Area the back¬ 
sheesh is pretty heavy, amounting, as far as I can recollect, 
though I am not certain, to about 1 1. for each traveller. But 
never was money paid with more good will than that which 
admitted us to the most memorable spot on the face of the 
whole earth. 

The general shape of the Haram, or Temple Area, will be easily 
understood by the help of the plan on the opposite page* It is 
nearly a parallelogram, its greatest length being 1500 feet—rather 
more than a quarter of a mile—and its greatest breadth about 
1000* It is surrounded on all sides by walls; some of them to 
the north and west serving also as walls of houses, which belong 
chiefly to civil or ecclesiastical officials. The east and south walls 
are also a part now of the city walls. Only a comparatively small 
portion of this great open space is occupied by buildings. About 
the centre is the Mosque el Sakrah (or “ Dome of the Rock ”), and 
at the south end the Mosque ek Aksah. 

The first thing that strikes one on entering this sacred spot is 
its profound repose. It is for the most part covered with grass, 
which is green and beautiful, even at this early season of the year. 
A arious kinds of trees, chiefly the dark, tall cypress, are scattered 
tlnough it. Oriental figures float about with noiseless tread. No 














JERUSALEM—WITHIN THE WALLS 


139 


sound of busy traffic from the city breaks the silence. All is quiet 
as if in the heart of the desert. The spot seems consecrated to 
meditation and prayer. 



027 


Ground Plan of the Haram os Sherif. 


Most probably the first questions which those readers whom I 
chiefly address will ask is this—What of the old Temple ? Can 














































































140 


EASTWARD. 


its site be determined ? Are there any traces of it ? Now I am 
glad to say that answers perfectly satisfactory—to me at least, 
and I fancy to all who will pay any attention to the inquiry—can 
be given. 

Let my readers, in the first place, understand that no remains 
whatever of the old Temple exist above ground. Every atom of 
its dust, as far as we can discover, has been swept away from the 
surface of the earth as with the besom of destruction. Literally, 
not one stone has been left upon another. Nevertheless, its site 
can with almost perfect accuracy be determined. I will as briefly 
as possible endeavour to explain how. 

There is no question whatever as to the Temple having been 
built somewhere within this space called the “ Haram.” We 
know also from Josephus, who is corroborated by other sources 
of evidence, that the whole area occupied by the Temple of Herod 
with its surrounding courts was a square of 600 feet. This fact is 
also, I believe, universally admitted. Now the question is, Can 
such a square be traced ? Can we measure with any degree of 
certainty such a portion of this wide space as will entitle us to 
say, within this square of 600 feet once stood the Temple ? I 
pr esume to affirm that we can do so, without any doubt or 
difficulty; and I hope that many of my readers, who have 
hitherto p6rhaps not paid any attention to this subject, will 
try to follow me as I endeavour to state the evidences which 
warrant this interesting conclusion. 

We have, then, to search for this square, or for four sides of 600 
feet each, which included the Temple. 

Let us try if we can get one side first, and that may help us to 
the others. Now there is one corner of the wall surrounding 1 the 
whole of the wide area I have spoken of which is an important 
starting-point in this inquiry. That corner is the south-west, 
which is marked A in the plan. The portion of the wall from A 
north to the “ causeway ” is very ancient. It is about 50 feet 

















JERUSALEM—WITHIN THE WALLS. 


141 


high on the outside, and is built of huge stones. There are four 
courses of these seen above ground, and the lowest corner-stone of 
them is 30 feet 10 inches, by 61 feet; while the others vary from 
24| and 201 in length to 5 feet in depth. This wall is admitted to 
be old Jewish architecture. It is a portion of this wall, moreover, 
which is called “the Jews’ wailing place for here may be seen 



The Wailing Well. 


every day some Jews kneeling towards the place where they 
believe their Temple once stood, and kissing those great stones ; 
and so have they done, since the third century at least, and 
probably since their Temple was destroyed. Again, we know that 
from the end of one of the grand colonnades, or cloisters of the old 
Temple, there was a bridge which connected it with the city to the 









































142 


EASTWARD. 


west. The site of that bridge is marked in the plan, for on that 
part of the same old wall Dr. Robinson discovered the spring of a 
huge arch, which unquestionably is the remains of this bridge. 
We are also informed by Josephus that the Temple was entered 
by two gates from the west. One gate in the wall we are de¬ 
scribing was long ago discovered, and is known as the Gate of 
Mohammed. The other, we have no doubt, will soon be brought 
to light when the excavations are begun. Finally, there are the 
remains of an old causeway, which crossed the same valley, and at 
this 'point the old wall with the large stones terminates. 

Now let it be noticed that this same old wall, from the corner A 
to the causeway, including the remains of the old bridge, and the 
place of the Jews’ wailing, and the two gates, is six hundred feet. 



Entrance-hall from Gateway in South Wall of the Temple. 


Let this portion of wall in the meantime be assumed to be one 
side of the square which bounded the site of the old Temple ; and 
let us search for another side. 

We begin with the wall which extends from the same corner A 
along the south from west to east. That this is also a part of the 
old boundary wall of the Temple is almost certain, for two 






















JERUSALEM—WITH IN THE WALLS. 


•43 


reasons :—first, that a portion of it is built of the same cyclopean 
stones (one of them being 23 feet long) ; and secondly, that there 
are in it the remains of a noble gateway, described by Josephus as 
being in the south wall of the Temple. To see it one has to enter 
it from within the Harain, as the gateway is built up from with¬ 
out. There is no monument of antiquity in Jerusalem so in¬ 
teresting as this. We have an entrance-hall about 50 feet long 
and 40 wide, and in the centre a column of a single block of lime¬ 
stone, 21 feet high and about 18 feet in circumference. The sides 



of this hall are built with huge stones. A flight of steps at the 
end leads to a long passage, sometimes horizontal, sometimes a 
gentle inclined*plane, but extending 259 feet, and emerging by 
another flight of steps into the area above. Now this south wall, 







































































1 44 


EASTWARD. 


marked by its great stones, and the magnificent old entrance, now 
useless, extends for six hundred feet east from the corner A to B. 
Does not this look like another side of the square we are in 
search of ? 

But what of the other two sides ? Well then, from the very 
point which marks the end of the 600 feet east from the corner, 
there is another wall, underground, running due north for 600 feet 
to D. The fourth and last side of the square is from D to the 
causeway, and is now marked by the edge of the platform on 
which the Mosque el Sakrah is built. Here we have our fourth 
boundary of 600 feet. 

Once more, to complete the proof. We know from Josephus 
that, the Temple was built on both rock and solid earth. Now the 
whole of the space within the above square of 600 feet is rock and 
solid earth ; while the ground beyond this space to the east (from 
B to c) is occupied by arches, strong enough to support soil or any 
light building, and now forming underground structures with high 
and airy chambers admirably adapted for keeping the cattle 
required for the Temple service, but too weak to sustaiu such 
immense buildings as those of the old Temple. 

Finally, within the square we have indicated are huge under¬ 
ground cisterns, filled from natural springs, which no doubt sup¬ 
plied the Temple with the water that was constantly required in 
its services. These cisterns are now got at by an opening like a 
well or chimney, near the Mosque el Aksah. 

Surely these proofs ought to satisfy the reader who duly weighs 
them, that the site of the Temple was in the south-west of the 
Haram, being a square of 600 feet, two sides of which are 
measured from the south-west angle of the old wall. This being 
settled, we can, within a few yards, or even feet, fix the site of the 
great altar; and it is a remarkable coincidence that it is opposite 
the very spot where the Jews now pray and weep for Zion! 

As I walked over this small green spot once occupied by God’s 



















J ERUSALEM-WITH I N THE WALLS. 


1 45 


Holy Temple, I cried—“ Oh for a voice to utter the thoughts that 
arise in me!” For who can adequately express the thoughts 
which here rush upon the mind, wave upon wave in rapid and 
tumultuous succession, out of the vast and apparently limitless 



Underground Cisterns. 


ocean of past history ? How profoundly impressive, for example, 
was the simple fact, that here alone in all the earth was the only 
living and true God worshipped throughout long ages ! Majestic 
Rome, with all her wisdom, had “ changed the glory of the incor¬ 
ruptible God into an image made like to corruptible man, and to 
birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things;” the philo¬ 
sophic and refined Athens had erected an altar “ to the unknown 
God;” but here, in this remote corner of the earth, and in a 
sequestered spot among the lonely hills, shepherd clans for cen¬ 
turies worshipped Him whom civilised nations still worship as the 
God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob. 

This green spot is the narrow strait through which the living 
stream passed 3000 years ago, which is now Hooding the whole 
earth. If we ask how this enduring worship came to be established, 
our inquiry receives a reply from the Books of Moses, in which its 
origin and establishment are recorded. In these we read a history 















146 


EASTWARD. 


of Creation, to which, like a spring rising in the far-off hills, can 
be traced the mighty river of our religious belief and worship 
When one thinks of the state of the world, with reference to its 
knowledge of God, at the time when Moses wrote, and as con¬ 
trasted with the period when the Temple with its worship was 
here located, it is impossible not to recognise in the revealed 
account of Creation the origin of this and of every true temple 
erected for the worship of God. There may be in Genesis “ diffi¬ 
culties ” not yet removed, and “ questions ” relating to science not 
yet solved; but greater than these, as mountains are greater than 
the boulders which are scattered over their surface, is the glorious 
moral teaching of the narrative. What a protest does it contain, 
for example, against all idolatries !—what a confounding of them 
by the mere statement of facts, which, from other independent 
sources, the most thoughtfully devout arrive at! That record tells 
us, for instance, that God in the beginning made the heavens and 
the earth ; if so, then matter is not eternal, but had a beginning, 
and it owes that beginning not to itself, nor to a blind fate, but to 
a personal God. It tells us that light and darkness have no 
ethical meaning, for God divided them, calling the darkness night, 
and the light day;—that neither sun, moon, nor stars, are to be 
adored, as they have been, for God made them, and set them in 
the heayens, not for worship, but, as far as man is concerned, for 
light. It tells us that the vegetable and the animal worlds owe 
their origin neither to the air, the land, the sea, nor to any in¬ 
herent power in themselyes or in nature, but to God alone, who 
said, “ Let these be.” It tells us that God made the bird, the 
beast, and creeping thing, and leaves us to infer that therefore 
neither beast (as the bull Apis), nor bird (as the Ibis), nor creep¬ 
ing thing (as the Scaraboeus, so honoured in Egypt, and from 
Egypt in other countries), are to be worshipped, but God only. It 
tells us, moreover, and very emphatically, that man is made after 
God’s image, and has dominion over the earth and over all mere 
















JERUSALEM—WITHIN THE WALLS. 


H7 


animal creation ; and the inference suggested is obvious, that man 
is not to turn things upside down, by creating a god after his own 
image, and worshipping the animals over which he is to rule. It 
tells us further that woman is of man, and for man, given by God 
to him, and therefore to be respected and loved, as bone of his bone 
and flesh of his flesh ; and not to be made the occasion—as 
woman, alas ! has been made in every form of false worship —of 
tempting man from God. And, finally, it tells us that God made 
all things very good, and if so, that matter is not evil, nor any¬ 
thing else as made by God ; that all evil has come from the 
creature, and all good from the Creator. This glorious revelation 
of God as the Creator was given to Moses, and was expressed and 
embodied in the worship of “ the Mosaic economy ” upon this 
green spot. All true religion on earth has sprung from it. O ! 
let us never forget what we owe to it, least of all when “ standing 
here upon this grave.” 

And from the day in which the old “ Tabernacle,” or Tent of 
the Wilderness, was enlarged into the grand Temple of Solomon, 
what events rise up before the memory ! I 11 vain we attempt to 

suggest, in the most hurried form, the incidents which make this 
the most memorable spot on earth to the Christian—ay, and “ to 
the Jew also.” There passes before the inner eye the august 
founding of Solomon’s Temple, with its stately rites, ceremonies, 
and solemn prayers ;—its costly sacrifices, and the presence within 
it of the mysterious Shekinah. Again, we see the memorable day 
when the Temple of Zerubbabel was founded, when “ the priests 
and Levites and chief of the fathers, who were ancient men, that 
had seen the first house, when the foundation of this house was 
laid before their eyes, wept with a loud voice ; and many shouted 
aloud for joy: so that the people could not discern the noise of the 
shout of joy from the noise of the weeping of the people : for the 
people shouted with a loud shout, and the noise was heard afar 
off. We see the last and greatest Temple of all—that of Herod— 















EASTWARD. 


148 

* 


of which it was said, “ The glory of this latter house shall be 
greater than of the former, saith the Lord of hosts : and in this 
place will I give peace, saith the Lord of hosts,”—all this passes 
before our minds, until the vision of the past is closed by the un¬ 
paralleled horrors of the destruction of the last Temple by the 
Roman army, leaving no trace behind except the faded sculptures 
of some of its holy things on the crumbling Arch of Titus. 

But standing here one loves to linger on earlier days, and to 
recall the holy men and women, the kings, priests, and prophets, 
who came up to this spot to pray—whose faith is our own, whose 
sayings are our guide, whose life is our example, and whose songs 
are our hymns of worship. We seem to hear the majestic psalms 
of David which have ascended from this spot, and have never been 
silent since on earth, nor will be until they are absorbed into the 
worship of the Temple above. Nor can we forget the frightful 
idolatries, the devilish wickedness, the falsehoods, hypocrisies, 
murders, blasphemies, which have been here witnessed and pu¬ 
nished ; the awful denunciations against sin in every form which 
have been here pronounced ; the sieges, famines,. destructions, 
dispersions, weepings, desolations, and restorations, which have 
here occurred; the prayers which have been addressed, not only 
from this spot but to it—by Jonah “out of the depths;” by Daniel 
from Babylon ; by Ezekiel from the banks of the Chebar ; by the 
captives who hung their harps on the willows and wept as they 
remembered Zion ; and by every Jew throughout the world since 
then ! What thoughts, longings, tears, hopes, and joys of millions 
throughout long ages have been thus associated with this Temple. 

But what more than absorbs all else into itself as a source of 
reverential wonder, was the presence here in his own Holy Temple 
of Jesus Christ, “the desire of all nations.” How affecting - to 

o 

recall his teaching, within this spot, his holy and awful works here 
done, his words of love and power here spoken—the incidents of 
his boyhood, temptation, and ministry down to his last hours, 















PANORAMIC VIEW OF THE TEMPLE AREA FROM MOUNT ZION. 





















































































JERUSALEM—WITHIN THE WALLS. 


149 


ending, as the result of all, in the establishment of a Church on 
earth in which each member is himself a priest, a sacrifice, and a 
temple of the Holy Spirit. 

How, we ask, can such associations be adequately expressed ? 
Yet how difficult to be silent when writing about the holy place 
by which they are necessarily suggested. Again we say, it is the 
most remarkable spot on earth. It is good for us to think about 
it; to recall what God has here done for the world; to remember 
how here, as the very Thermopylae of the universe, the battle was 
long fought, and at last gained, which for ever secured to us, if not 
“ the place where the Lord lay,” yet the Lord Himself as the living 
and abiding Saviour of the whole world, and that “ kingdom which 
cannot be moved.” 

These, and such like thoughts passed through my mind, as I 
trod on this sacred spot—now so calm, silent, dead. The dust of 
which man is made alone remains and covers all. Not an object 
meets the eye on which Kings and Prophets, with Jesus and his 
Apostles gazed, except the Mount of Olives and the blue sky. 
Yet it may be those holy feet have trod the steps of that old pas¬ 
sage ; and His lips may have drunk from the waters that “ made 
glad the city of God,” and with reference to which He on the first 
day of the feast cried, saying, “ If any man thirst, let him come to 
Me and drink, and the water which I shall give him shall be in 
him,” as the water is within the Temple, “ a living fountain spring¬ 
ing up into everlasting life ! ” 

Will the Temple ever be, in any form, restored ? Will Jeru¬ 
salem be again built ? Will the tribes go up together once more 
to this sacred spot, weeping for Him whom they pierced ? Will 
salvation yet once again come out of Zion? Will Jesus be here 
worshipped, so that it will be said of Him, or of his ministers, 
“ Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord ? ” I know 
not. Yet the very may be that Jerusalem and the site of the 
Temple are to be still connected somehow with the future of the 
















* 5 ° 


EASTWARD. 


Church and of the world, only adds to the solemn and awful 
interest which already attaches to both. But in whatever way, 
or in whatever jdace, the blessing may come, we should earnestly 
desire that it may come soon, in all its fullness, to those who are 
“beloved for their fathers’ sake.” Pray for the peace of Jeru¬ 
salem ! 

But we must leave the site of the old Temple, with its solemn 
memories, and enter El Sakrah, or the “ Mosque of Omar”—as 
it is commonly, though we think erroneously, called—and which 
occupies nearly the centre of the great Haram enclosure. On 
entering it, one is immediately and irresistibly impressed by 
its exquisite proportions, its simplicity of design, and wonderful 
beauty. Nowhere have I seen stained-glass windows of such in¬ 
tense and olowing colours. Indeed one of the marked features of 
the interior is the variety and harmony of colour which pervade 
it, caused by the marbles of the pillars and walls—the arabesque 
ornaments and Arabic inscriptions—the rich drapery hanging in 
the sunlight—with the flickering touches everywhere of purple 
and blue and golden yellow, from the Eastern sun pouring its 
splendour through the gorgeous windows ; while every Oriental 
worshipper, as he bends in prayer or moves about in silence, dis¬ 
plays some bright bit of dress embroidered with gold or silver in 
the looms of Damascus, or possibly of India, and thus adds to the 
brilliancy of the scene. 

What chiefly attracts the eye and arrests the attention, however, 
within this holy temple of Mohammedan worship, is an object 
which one never saw before in any such place, or beneath any roof, 
except the sky. Immediately under the dome, and within the 
circle of marble pillars which support it, with silk drapery over¬ 
hanging it like a banner over the tomb of a hero, lies a huge rock ! 
It is not the work of a cunning artist, shaped to a form of beauty, 
or to serve any useful or religious purpose, but an unhewn mass, 
rough as a boulder on a mountain-side or on the sea-shore. This 























JERUSALEM—WITHIN THE WALLS. 


I5i 


stone is about 60 feet long and 50 broad, and rises about five feet 
above the level of the floor, or 15 feet above the original surface 



The llock under the Dome. 


of the ground. Moreover, it has on the south-east side an open 
door which leads by a few steps down to a room, cut out of the 
rock, about eight feet high and 15 feet square. Above, is a hole 
pierced three or four feet through the rock, with a lamp suspended 
near it. Such is the general appearance and position of this 
famous rock. I may add, that if one stamps on a circular marble 
stone about the centre of the cave, seen in the engraving on next 
page, hollow sounds and echoes are heard beneath, evidencing 
the existence of considerable underground excavations. 

“ But what,” the reader asks, “ means this rock ? Why has it 
been preserved, and preserved here as a holy and revered thing ? ” 
A question to be asked, verily ! but one by no means so easily 
answered. For this stone has given rise to a great controversy, 
which still rages, though only, of course, with such calm, sup¬ 
pressed, and reticent energy as archaeologists and antiquaries are 


















































152 


EASTWARD. 



capable of in a case where passion decreases with the square of the 
distance that, in time, separates them from the subjects of their 
inquiry. 

Without attempting in a few lines to state the arguments which 
have been brought forward in support of the various conflicting 
theories, or presuming to give any decided judgment on so com¬ 
plicated a question, let me endeavour, however meagrely, to satisfy, 
or rather to prompt, the curiosity of those of my readers who 
may wish to know how this stone has become such a stumbling- 
block. 

(1) The most prosaic account of it is, that it was a draw-well for 


The Cave cut out of ihe ltock. 


the fortress of Antonia, the excavations below the cave being but 
a part of the great natural cisterns which honeycomb the Temple 























































JERUSALEM—WITHIN THE WALLS. 


area. But the fortress did not stand here ; and even if it did, that 
would not account for the well of a barracks ever becoming a holy 
and consecrated spot. 

(2) Was it then, as some suggest, the stone on the summit of 
Mount Moriah on which Abraham offered up Isaac ? This is a 
mere conjecture, without any evidence whatever to support it, and 
the difficulty of accepting it is increased by the fact that Mount 
Gerizim is claimed—and that not without weighty and, as Dr. 
Stanley and others think, conclusive reasons—to be the mountain 
of Abraham’s sacrifice. 

(3) A more probable supposition is, that this place was the 
threshing-floor of Araunah (or Oman) the Jebusite, which David 
bought, and on which he erected the great Altar of Sacrifice. The 
account given in Scripture of this transaction is as follows .— 

“ And the angel of the Lord stood by the threshing-floor of Oman the Jebnsite. 
And David lifted up his eyes, and saw the angel of the lord stand between the 
earth and the heaven, having a drawn sword in his hand stretched out over 
Jerusalem. Then David and the elders of Israel, who were clothed in sackcloth, 
fell upon their faces. . . . Then the angel of the Lord commanded Gad to say to 
David, that David should go up, and set up an altar unto the Lord in the thresh¬ 
ing floor of Oman the Jebusite. And David went up at the saying of Gad, which 
he spake in the name of the Lord. And Oman turned back, and saw the angel; 
and his four sons with him hid themselves. Now Oman was threshing wheat. 
And as David came to Oman, Oman looked and saw David, and went out of the 
threshing floor, and bowed himself to David with his face to the ground.” 

We read also that— 

“ Solomon began to build the house of the Lord at Jerusalem in Mount Moriah, 
where the Lord appeared unto David his father, in the place that David had pre¬ 
pared in the threshingfloor of Oman the Jebusite, And he began to build in the 
second day of the second month, in the fourth year of his reign.” 

This narrative, it is alleged, makes all clear. On the summit of 
this stone, by the threshing-floor, stood the angel of the Lord, 
seen as if between earth and heaven. Beside the stone was the 
threshing-floor; its top was the place for winnowing the grain, 

which was poured down through the hole into the cave, that 

x 









‘54 


EASTWARD. 


was at once a granary and contained a well. In this cave, more¬ 
over, Oman and his sons hid themselves, and “ came out ” to meet 
David. On the summit of the same rock was afterwards erected 
the great altar, which was reached by steps, or by a gradual ascent, 
and through the hole the remains of the sacrifices and the blood 
were sent into the cave below, to be disposed of by the Levites, 
and to be carried by some means or other without the Temple 
through its subterranean excavations. So far well. But the great 
objection to this theory is, that it is impossible to bring the rock 
within the site of the Temple, as it is 150 feet from the nearest 
point of its outer wall. It could not, therefore, have been the 
base of the great altar; for Herod’s Temple (within the square of 
600 feet) occupied, or rather, from its being much larger, included, 
the site of the Temple of Solomon. 

(4) The last, and which will appear to our readers to be the 
most improbable and astounding theory is, that this cave was the 
“ true sepulchre of our Lord ! ” 

Mr. Fergusson, the propounder and defender of this theory, 
broached it fifteen years ago, and has maintained it with great 
ability and with increasing confidence ever since. He lately visited 
Jerusalem to test its accuracy still further by an actual inspection 
of the spot, and has returned more convinced, if possible, than ever ! 

While this theory is maintained on historical grounds, yet it is 
based chiefly on architectural. And let no one reject this kind of 
evidence, as if from its nature inapplicable. The very reverse is 
nearer the truth. Suppose we find a canoe embedded in the silt 
of an English river, and the wreck of a steamer on the shores of 
an uninhabited island. Every one can understand how it is pos¬ 
sible to decide with absolute certainty as to the relative ages of 
those two specimens of shipbuilding, and to know that the one 
was before and the other after a certain historic period. And so 
in regard to architecture. Mr. Fergusson, one of the first living 
authorities on the history of this department of art, has endea- 



















JERUSALEM—WITHIN THE WALLS. 


*55 


voured to prove—and I presume to think successfully—that (1) 
the so-called Mosque of Omar never was, nor could have been, 
built for a place of Mohammedan worship ; (2) that it could not 
have been built either before or after the age of Constantine ; 
(3) and that the present church of the Holy Sepulchre could not 
have been erected earlier than the time of the Crusades. He 
concludes that the so-called Mosque of Omar was the church 
which Constantine built—for that a church was built by him all 
admit—over the sepulchre of Christ. 

I cannot enter further into this controversy, but must refer my 
readers, who may now wish to follow it out, to some of the well- 
known works which fully discuss it* If I might presume to give 
any opinion on the subject, it would be briefly this : I cannot 
accept of the proofs in favour of the authenticity of the tomb in 
the church of the Holy Sepulchre. 

It seems to me to be demonstrated by Mr. Fergusson that “ the 
Dome of the Rock ” was built by Constantine, and that, too,—in 
the absence of any other known motive,—because he believed it 
to be the tomb of our Lord.*f* I recognise also the strength of 

* Among others I would mention Dr. Robinson’s great work on Palestine, as 
containing the most forcible arguments against the present site ; and “ Williams’s 
Holy City” as its best defence, and also for the reply which it gives to Mr. 
Fergusson’s theory in favour of the Dome of the Rock. Mr. Fergusson’s view is 
given in his article “Jerusalem,” in “ Smith’s Dictionary,” and also in his recently 
published lectures. Lewin’s “ Siege of Jerusalem ” may also be consulted, and 
Sandie’s “ Horeb and Jerusalem.” 

f Mr. Fergusson quotes in the Appendix to his recently published Lectures, an 
extract from a small volume of travels to the Holy Land, by a pilgrim named 
“ Theodericus,” in the year 1172, and entitled “ Theodericus de Weis Sanctes.” It 
is edited by Dr. Tobler, and was issued from the German press just as Mr. 
Fergusson’s book was being printed. The pilgrim confirms all his views. He 
states more than once that the “ Dome of the Rock ” was erected by Constantine 
and his mother Helena. Some interesting inscriptions are given by him as copied 
from the church while in the possession of the Christians, who worshipped in it 
during the whole period of the Latin kingdom, and a few years before it was 
taken by Saladin. These inscriptions are along each of the eight sides, and some 
















156 


EASTWARD. 


the evidence adduced to establish the probability of Constantine 
having been able, even in the fourth century, to ascertain the real 
position of the sacred spot, both from the tradition of the Christian 
Church in Jerusalem, and also from the perfection of the Roman 
census—an argument brought to bear for the first time on this 
question by the learned and accurate Mr. Finlay.* 

Mr. Fergusson has also, I think, satisfactorily disposed of the 
objection to his theory from the supposed impossibility of our 
accounting for the change of site from the Dome of the Rock to 
the present church, without there being any record of such a 
transaction ; for the pilgrims, when shut out of the true one by 
the Moslems, would most likely be supplied by the priests with a 
false one—and that, too, with the best intentions on their part. 

are as follows:—“Pax seterna ab astemo Patre sit huic domui;” “Templum 
Domini sanctum est. Dei cultura est. Dei sanctificatio est,” &c. &c. “ Bene 

fundatus est domus Domini super firmam petram,” &c. Inscriptions of the same 
character were in other parts of the building. We must confess, however, that 
the omission of any reference to the tomb is remarkable. De Yogiie, in his recent 
great work on the Temple, gives translations in French of some of the Arabic 
inscriptions, added most probably in the time of Saladin, and which read as a 
protest against the Christian Church and the known Christian beliefs, and pro¬ 
bably displaced the Christian inscriptions of its founders and worshippers. They 
are such as the following :—“ Praise be to God, He has no Son”—“ He does not 
share the empire of the universe”—“Jesus is the Son of Mary, sent by God, and 
his Word”—“Do not say there is a Trinity of God,” &c. As Mr. Fergusson 
remarks, there is not a word in the Arabic inscriptions of David, Solomon, or 
even Mahomet, but of “Jesus the Son of Maria,” whose name appears four times. 

* “ The census was so perfect that throughout the wide extent of the Roman 
empire every private estate was surveyed. Maps were constructed, indicating 
not only every locality possessing a name, but so detailed that every field was 
measured. And in the register connected with the map even the numbers of 
fruit-trees in the garden were inscribed. Not only every Roman province, and 
especially every Roman colony, but every municipality was surveyed with this 
extreme accuracy. A plan of the district was engraven on brass, and deposited in 
the imperial register office, while plans were placed in the hands of the local 
administration and in the provincial archives.”—(“ Greece under the Romans,” 
5G1.) By this means Mr. Finlay thinks Constantine could have had no difficulty 
in ascertaining the true site, as a temple to Venus had been erected over it by 
Hadrian, to profane it. 























JERUSALEM—WITH IN THE WALLS. 


157 


The supposition of such a pious fraud, which appears at first so 
revolting to our sense of truth, is nevertheless in harmony with 
what was done in many parts of Europe, and more especially in 
Italy. Everybody knows that the house of Joseph and Mary w r as 
carried by angels from Nazareth to Loretto, where it has been 
visited every day for centuries by more pilgrims than the Holy 
Sepulchre. This transference, let it be observed, was rendered 
expedient by the same causes as might have induced the change 
of the site of the Holy Sepulchre. It was dangerous under Moslem 
rule to make a pilgrimage to the church in the Haram, just as it 
was to make one to Nazareth,—where, however, we may add, 
another house equally authentic is also now shown * 

Admitting all this, then, it may be asked how I can avoid 
coming to the conclusion that the authentic site has at last been 
discovered ? I must confess my inability to give any reply, beyond 
the very unfatisfactory one—that I cannot believe ! My doubt, 
I frankly acknowledge, is chiefly derived from the mere force of 
impressions made on the spot. 

To believe that this room, with its hollow excavations beneath, 
was a tomb at all; that Joseph of Arimathea got possession of the 
huge rock, occupying so remarkable a position, as his own private 
property, and was allowed to cut out the first tomb in it; that he 
who was terrified to confess Christ before the Sanhedrim, should 
have had the boldness to bury Him, or rather should have been 
permitted to do so, within one hundred and fifty feet of the 
Temple wall , and overlooked by the fanatics who had condemned 
Him, and the Roman soldiers who had executed Him ; and that 
the Resurrection, involving the presence of Roman guards, holy 
angels, pious women, agitated apostles, and Christ Himself, should 

* When in Jerusalem I was assured, on what seemed the best authority, that 
the Greeks had got up a new Gethsemane of their own, in opposition to the 
Latins; but on further careful inquiry I found this was not the case. How 
difficult it is even “on the spot” to ascertain the truth ! 











158 EASTWARD. 


have taken place here, nominally indeed at that time without the 
walls, but practically under the gaze of both the Temple and the 
fortress—all this I cannot as yet assent to. Moreover, it does not 
seem to me at all unlikely that the place of Christ’s burial should 
have died out of the memory of the early Church. To the first 
believers the tomb of the dead Christ would, it appears to me, be 
soon lost in faith in the living Christ. Golgotha as a place, with 
its dreadful horrors, would be uncared for in their adoring love of 
the grand spiritual truths of which it w r as but the awful threshold. 
I can therefore quite conceive of St. Paid, for example, when in 
Jerusalem after his conversion, visiting neither the place of Christ’s 
death nor that of his burial, nor caring thus to “ know Him after 
the flesh,” although he held living communion with Him every 
day in the Spirit. Belief in persons, not places, in living realities, 
not mere localities, appears to me as much more likely to have 
characterised the early than any subsequent age of the Church. 
And just as in the course of years faith began to grow weak in a 
living person or in eternal truths, so would it naturally seek to 
strengthen itself by a visit to places, until it became still weaker 
by contact with the visible, and the kernel be at last lost in the 
shell. In the meantime we wait for more light on this interesting 
subject. The spade and pickaxe, which we hope soon to see 
vigorously at work in Jerusalem, may help to solve these and 
many other questions. 

But should the sepulchre of Christ never be discovered—if it 
lies unknown in some lonely recess among the “ braes” overlooking 
the Kedron, we are not disposed greatly to lament it. 

“ We have a vision of our own— 

Ah, why should we undo it ? ” 







VII. 

JERUSALEM (WITHOUT THE WALLS). 

Before going outside the city, I must admit that much more 
could be said about Jerusalem itself, and especially about the old 
walls, and their bearing on the vexed question of the position of 
the Holy Sepulchre.* But the reader will please recollect that I 
only give the impressions of a hurried visit, and do not recapitulate 
what others have written, and more fully and better than I 
could do. 

On my way out one day I visited the Jews’ “ wailing place,” 
certainly one of the most remarkable spots in the world. I 
indicated its locality in my last article. It extends 120 feet along 
the cyclopean wall, which belongs to the area of the Jewish 
Temple, and which surrounded the sacred inclosure. It begins 
about 300 feet from the south-west corner. No familiarity with 
the scenes enacted at this place made it hackneyed to me. To see 

* After writing the last section, I got a copy of De Vogue’s splendid work on 
Jerusalem. The learned author rejects Josephus’s measurements of the site of 
the old Temple, and endeavours to prove that it occupied the whole portion of the 
present Haram area, with the exception of the north-west corner, on which the 
fortress of Antonia was built. If his view be correct—a point by no means 
settled—then the famous rock may turn out after all to be the site of the great 
altar. He also rejects Mr. Fergusson’s argument that the Mosque el Sakrah was 
built by Constantine, though he admits it to be of Byzantine architecture, applied 
by Moslem builders. And he accepts the present so-called “ Holy Sepulchre ” as 
authentic. I am quite prepared for a “ counterblast ” to his arguments, and am 
disposed, more than ever, to wait for light until the Palestine Exploratibn Society 
-—one of the most interesting, most urgently required, and most promising 
associations of our day—has had time to dig and measure about the debris of 
Jerusalem with skill and patience. I trust the society will meet with the support 
it deserves. 



160 EASTWARD. 


representatives of that people met here for prayer—to see them 
kissing those old stones—to know that this sort of devotion has 
probably been going on since the Temple was destroyed, and down 
through those teeming centuries which saw the decline and fall of 
the Roman Empire, and all the events of the history of Modern 
Europe—to watch this continuous stream of sorrow, still sobbing 
against the old wall, filled me with many thoughts. What light 
amidst darkness, what darkness amidst light; what undying 
hopes in the future, what passionate attachment to the past; what 
touching superstition, what belief and unbelief! * I found some 
slips of paper, bearing prayers written in neat Jewish characters, 
inserted between the stones of the old wall. 

I also took a stroll into the Jews’ quarter on Mount Zion. It is 
a wretched filthy place, squalid as the “ liberties ” of Dublin, the 
“slums’’ of London, or the “closes” of Glasgow or Edinburgh. 
As I intend in another chapter to give my impressions of the Jews 
of Palestine, I shall say nothing more about them here.! 

* Dr. Wilson, in his “Lands of the Bible” (vol. ii. p. G15),- quotes a passage 
from the liturgy of the Sephardim Jews, used when lamenting at the place of 
wailing. Among its petitions are the following :—“ Oh, may their Father in his 
infinite mercy compassionate his orphans, and gather his dispersed to the pure 
land ! For he is high and exalted; he bringeth down and raiseth up; he 
woundeth and healeth ; killeth and restoreth to life. 0 Lord, return to thy city ! 
build thine holy oracle, dwell in thine house, and gather thy scattered flock. 0 
thou who renewest the months, collect the saints, both men and women to the 
erected city. O may this month be renewed for good! and may it please God, 
who is mighty in works, thus to command! ” 

f I cannot find any more authentic evidence of the population of Jerusalem 
than what has been given by “ Murray” (1858), which is as follows :— 


Moslems . 


. 4,000 

Jews . 


. . 6,000 

Greeks . 


. 1,500 

Latins 

. 

. . 1,200 

Armenians 


280 

Syrians, Copts, &c. 


. . 150 

Greek Catholics 


110 

Protestants 


. . 100 



13,340 






JERUSALEM—WITHOUT THE WALLS. 


161 


I saw one sight on Mount Zion which vividly recalled the past, 
and that was a band of lepers. They inhabit a few huts near one 
of the gates, and are shut off by a wall with only one entrance to 
their wretched small court and mud dwellings. Ten of those 
miserable beings came out to beg from us—as they do from every 
one who is likely to give them alms. They sat afar off, with out¬ 
stretched arms, directing attention to their sores. There was 
nothing absolutely revolting in their appearance ; but it was 
unutterably sad to see so many human beings, with all the capaci¬ 
ties for enjoying life, thus separated from their kind, creeping out 
of their mud dens day by day through a long course of years to 
obtain aid to sustain their miserable existence ; and then creeping 
back again—to talk, to dream, to hope. And for what ? No 
friendly grasp from relation or friend, no kiss from parent or child, 
from husband or wife. Dying daily, they daily increase in misery 
and pain. What more vivid symbol of sin could have been selected 
than this disease, which destroys the whole man from the crown 
of the head to the sole of the foot, slowly but surely eating his life 
away, and which is incurable save by the power of God ? May 
He have mercy on all such ! The sight of those sufferers in such 
a p'ace suggested many a scene in Bible history, above all the 
compassion of Him who “ bore our sicknesses,” and restored such 
pitiable objects to the health and joy of a new existenoe. Nor 
could one fail to associate the helpless condition of lepers with 
that of the people who still occupy Zion, whose houses are built 
over the dust of what was once their own stately palaoes, and 
whose unbelief is now, as it was in the days of the prophets, like 
unto a deadly leprosy with wounds that have not yet “been 
closed, neither bound up, nor mollified with ointment.” Their 


The best account of the “ religions ” of Palestine that I am acquainted with, is 
that given by Dr. Wilson, in his “ Lands of the Bible.” Finn’s account of one 
sect of the Jews—the Spanish “ Sephardim”—is also valuable. 


Y 
















EASTWARD. 


162 


sin has been so visibly punished, that we may truly add :—“ \ our 
country is desolate ; your cities are burned with fire; your land, 
strangers devour it in your presence, and it is desolate as over¬ 
thrown by strangers. And the daughter of Zion is left as a 
cottage in a vineyard, as a lodge in a garden of cucumbers, as a 
besieged city.” 

And before passing beyond the walls, I would like to mention 
one remarkable feature of Jerusalem. It is its power, in spite of 
its dust and decay, to attract to itself so many forms of religious 
thought. The fire which once blazed in it with so pure a flame, 
still flickers amidst smoke and ashes. Moslem, Jew, and Christian, 
of every sect, reside among its ruins, or make pilgrimages of 
devotion or of inquiry to its hallowed precincts. Among these are 
always a few outre characters from Britain or America, possessed 
by a monomania on the second advent or the return of the Jews. 
1 heard of more than one such who took up their abode in 
sight of Olivet, daily watching for the Saviour’s personal return, 
and daily preparing to receive Him or some of his followers as 
honoured guests. On every other point they were, I believe, sane 
and sensible people. One old man had for years lived in eager 
expectancy of the great event. His hair grew white, but his hopes 
were ever fresh and young. He lived alone. At last one day he 
was missed; and when search was made, he was found dead in his 
solitary room. But his hopes, however false they were, as based 
on an error of judgment, yet sprang from personal attachment to 
his Redeemer, and would not be put to shame, though fulfilled 
otherwise and more gloriously than he had anticipated. Those 
who, longing to see the sun rise, search for it with straining eyes 
at too early an hour, or in the wrong quarter of the heavens, will 
yet rejoice in its beams when it does rise, though it be later, and 
in another point of the horizon. We may apply to such disap¬ 
pointed dreamers what Mrs. Barrett Browning so touchingly sa} r s 
of the poet Cowper :— 















J ERUSALEM—WITHOUT THE WALLS. 


163 


“ Like a sick child that knoweth not his mother while she blesses, 

And drops upon his burning brow the coolness of her kisses ; 

That turns his fevered eyes around—* My mother! where’s my mother ? ’ 

As if such tender words and looks could come from any other! 

“ The fever gone, with leaps of heart he sees her bending o’er him, 

Her face all pale from watchful love, the unweary love she bore him !— 

Thus woke the poet from the dream his life’s long fever gave him, 

Beneath those deep pathetic eyes which closed in death to save him. 

“ Thus? Oh, not thus! no type of earth could image that awaking, 

Wherein he scarcely heard the chant of seraphs round him breaking, 

Or felt the new immortal throb of soul from body parted. 

But felt those eyes alone, and knew—* My Saviour ! not deserted! ’ ” 

But we must go out of the city and “ view the walls of Jerusa¬ 
lem which were broken down.” 

Among the first places I went to was the subterranean quarry, 
the entrance to which is near the Damascus Gate. The nature 



Damascus Gate. 


of this place will be best understood by supposing an immense 
excavation, out of which it is highly probable the stones were 
quarried to build the city, so that Jerusalem may be said to be 
reared over one vast cavern, the roof of which is supported by 
huge pillars of rock, left untouched by the workmen. We entered 



















164 


EASTWARD. 


by a narrow hole, through which we had to creep; and after 
stumbling over debris down hill and up hill, we found ourselves 
in the midst of a labyrinth of vast caves, whose high arches and 
wide mouths were lost in darkness. On we went tottering after 
our feeble lights, long after we lost sight of the eye of day at the 
entrance. With cavern after cavern on the right and left and 
ahead of us, we got eerie, and began to think, in spite of the 
lucifers—unknown as an earthly reality to the Jews ot old—what 
would become of us if our lights went out. It is difficult to say 
how far the quarries extend. I have been told by one who has 
examined into their inner mysteries, that there are walls built up 
which prevent thorough exploration. But I have no doubt they 
will, as many incidents in history indicate, be found to extend to 
at least the Temple Area. It is more than likely that the stones 
of the Temple were here prepared ; for “ the house when it was 
in building was built of stone made ready before it was brought 
thither, so that there wa? neither hammer nor axe, nor any tool 
of iron heard in the house while it was building.” The stone is 
a white limestone, and must have given a pure and bright 
appearance to the Temple. 

We saw some blocks half cut out of the living rock, but never 
finished. I know not why such unfinished works as those stones, 
partly prepared yet never used, are so impressive. They are very 
old—older than any inhabited building on earth, and ages older 
than most of our modern ruins—yet they look young, like children 
that were embalmed at birth. They are monuments, not of the 
past so much as of an expected future—enduring types of designs 
frustrated, of plans unexecuted, and of hopes unrealised—symbols 
of the ignorance ot man, who plants and builds, until a sudden 
coming ot God revolutionises the world to him. Why, we ask, 
did not this or that stone fulfil its intended destiny ? What 
stopped the work ? What hindered the workman from returning 
with his mallet and chisel to finish it ? What caused the abrupt 























J ERUSALEM—WITHOUT THE WALLS. 


165 


\ 


pause which has not been disturbed for - centuries ? Was this 
stone designed for the home of some rich young man, who was so 
absorbed in it that he could not follow Christ ? or was it intended 
for some one anxious to enlarge his barns ? or for some Dives to 
erect a new banqueting-hall ? or for some bridegroom to prepare 
a home for his bride ? Or did the Sanhedrim commission it for 
the repair of the Temple ? Then why did it remain here ? Were 
the workmen called away by the Crucifixion, or by the scenes of 
the day of Pentecost ? Or did strange news come of the army 
of Titus encompassing the city ? and was the work of usefulness, 
of covetousness, of luxury, of domestic peace, or of piety, put off 
till a more convenient season ? The stones yet wait in silence, 
and may wait probably till all man’s works are burnt up. And 
still we go on in the old way, planting and building, marrying 
and giving in marriage, rearing palaces, barns, and churches, as if 
the earth were firm beneath our feet, and time would never end. 
But we must not indulge in dreamy meditations lest our lights 
go out, and the stones at last serve some purpose by covering our 
skeletons. We reach the daylight, which, first like a brilliant 
star, and then a sun, pierces through the gloom from the narrow 
entrance. 

Reader, it is no easy task, this work of exploration, even in a 
small way, or of sight-seeing in any way, with such a temperature. 
You can fancy what it is to be obliged to poke through holes like 
a rat, Hit through caverns like a bat, and then come into daylight 
only to pace along under a glare from white rocks, white stony 
roads, white walls, the whole man dusty and deliquescent, and 
inclined to say with Sir John : “ Thou knowest, Hal, that a yard 
of uneven ground is a mile to me.” There is no shelter anywhere 
except under an olive, when there is one, or in the cool recesses of 
a house, which is not to be thought of until evening. I long to 
bring the reader to Olivet and Bethany; but let us first take a 
rapid glance at some of the spots south of the city. 










EASTWARD. 


166 


Whoever takes the trouble to examine the accurate plan of the 
site of Jerusalem and its environs given at page 118, will notice 
the prolongation of the hill south of the Haram Area. It is 
steep, and in some places rocky, though on the whole carefully 
cultivated in terraces, with many olive and fruit trees. This was 
the Ophel of the olden time. The valley which bounds it on 
the west was called the “ Tyropoean,” which, from the Damascus 
Gate southward, divided the Temple Mount from Mount Zion. 
The valley to the east of Ophel is that of Jehoshaphat, or the 
Kidron, separating Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives. It 
attains its greatest depth immediately beneath the south-east 
angle of the Temple. Another valley, it will be observed from 
the plan, curves in from the west. This is the valley of Hinnorn 
or Tophet. Perhaps there is no place on earth where so many 
thoughts of human crime and misery suggest themselves, as 
among the rocky sepulchres of this valley. It must always have 
been an out-of-the-way, dark, secluded spot. There is no other 
like it near Jerusalem. The horrible Moloch fires which con¬ 
sumed many an agonised child, once blazed among these stones. 
“ They have built the high places of Tophet,” said the Prophet 
Jeremiah, “which is in the valley of the son of Hinnorn, to burn 
their sons and their daughters in the fire; which I commanded 
them not, neither came it into my heart.” On the opposite side, 
on the Hill of Corruption, where the village of Siloam is now 
built, Solomon set up his idols in the very sight of the Temple; 
as it is written :—“ Then did Solomon build an high place for 
Chemosh, the abomination of Moab, in the hill that is before 
Jerusalem, and for Molech, the abomination of the children of 
Ammon.” It was these abominations Josiah cleared away:—for 
“ he defiled Tophet, which is in the valley of the children of 
Hinnorn, that no man might make his son or his daughter to pass 
through the fire to Molech.” “ And the high places that were 
before Jerusalem, which were on the riadit hand of the mount of 













































































































JERUSALEM—WITHOUT THE WALLS. 


167 


corruption, which Solomon the King of Israel had builded for 
Ashtoreth, the abomination of the Zidonians, and for Chemosh 
the abomination of the Moabites, and for Milcom the abomination 
of the children of Ammon, did the king defile.” As if to com¬ 
plete the painful associations, there is pointed out among the 
rocky hills of Hinnom, immediately below the Hill of Evil 
Counsel, Aceldama, or “ the field of blood,” where, into a caverned 
pit, now built over, bodies were cast, with hardly any other burial 
than to lie there under a little sprinkling of earth until turned 
into corruption. It has been closed for a century, but will ever 
be associated with the traitor. No wonder this spot in the valley 
of Hinnom, with its wickedness, its consuming fires, its vile moral 
as well as physical corruption, should have become, as Tophet or 
Gehenna, a type of Hell. 

The inhabitants in the immediate neighbourhood of these in¬ 
famous spots do not redeem their character. The villagers of 
Siloam partly live in houses and partly in the old rock tombs, and 
are notorious thieves—such a collection of scoundreldom as might 
be the joint product of gipsies, vagabond Jews, and the lowest 
Arabs. Their presence in Siloam makes all the Mount of Olives 
unsafe after nightfall to those who are not protected. 

But the name Siloam recalls a very different scene, and one for 
ever associated with the Saviour’s power and love. There is no 
dispute whatever regarding the site of the old Pool, which has 
never been challenged* It is about 53 feet long, 18 feet wide, 
and 19 feet deep. It is surrounded by an old wall, which, it has 
been suggested, is the same as that of which it is recorded :— 
“ Shallum built the wall and the pool of Siloam by the king’s 
garden.” Above it, as the illustration shows (p. 168), is an arch, 
under which a flight of steps descends to the water, that flows past, 
clear and pure, into the pool. In this the blind man was sent to 


* Its position is marked 28 on the plan. 

















168 


EASTWARD. 



he sees Jesus as “ the Sent” of God, and as his Saviour. It is not 
the realising merely of this miracle or of any others as historical 
facts that does us good, but it is the realising of the more abiding 


wash. This one fact sheds a light and glory over the whole place. 
We can easily picture to ourselves the poor man proceeding with his 
clay-covered eyes, his anxious and eager faith subduing his doubts 
and fears, until the water laves his face, and then !—he sees for 
the first time those very rocks, perhaps that same old wall; and 
better; than all, with the eye of the spirit, as well as of the flesh. 


Pool of Shoum, from S.E. 



































J ERUSALEM—WITHOUT THE WALLS. 


169 


and life-giving truth that this Saviour ever liveth able and willing 

OO O 

to open the eyes of all men, whom sin hath blinded, and to “give 
light to those who sit in darkness.” It has been proved that this 
Pool of Siloam is fed from sources which extend towards Zion, and 
possibly Moriah. It is conducted down to the valley opposite the 
village of Siloam, where it flows out a sparkling stream, round 
which women were merrily washing clothes, and men giving drink 



Fountain of the Virgin, from the East. 


to their horses, as we passed. A conduit also has been traced, 
which connects it with the Fountain of the Virgin, which is still 
higher up the valley,* and is reached by a descent of twenty-six 


* Marked 17 on the plan. 



























EASTWARD. 


170 


steps. It exhibits the curious phenomenon of an intermittent 
fountain, ebbing and flowing at certain intervals, which is explain¬ 
able on the principle of the syphon. This stream is no doubt 
connected with the great reservoirs under the Temple. It cannot, 
however, be identified with the Pool of Bethesda and the “ moving 
of the waters;” but it is more than likely that that fountain, 
if ever discovered and cleared out, will exhibit the same pheno¬ 
menon. 

There is no city in the world, certainly not in the East—if we 
except Damascus—more abundantly supplied with water than Jeru¬ 
salem, not only from its innumerable private cisterns, but also from 
its natural springs. Many of these were filled up by Hezekiah 
with much trouble :—for “ he took counsel with his princes and his 
mighty men to stop the waters of the fountains which Avere with¬ 
out the city ; and they did help him. So there was gathered 
much people together, who stopped all the fountains, and the 
brook that ran through the midst of the land, saying, Why should 
the kings of Assyria come, and find much water ? ” Hezekiah 
also “ stopped the upper watercourse of Gihon, and brought it 
straight down to the west side of the city of David.” 

Earthquakes, which have often shaken these hills and shattered 
these rocks, must have affected the supply of water, both in Jeru¬ 
salem and throughout the whole country. The existing supply, 
notwithstanding, if properly utilised and distributed, would be 
more than sufficient not only for the inhabitants of the city, but 
also for the irrigation of the neighbourhood ; while if wells were 
dug through the limestone strata, we see no reason why, in a 
country whose average rainfall is much higher than that of 
Scotland, water should not yet flow everywhere and bless the 
arid soil. The overflow of Siloam now gladdens the lower por¬ 
tion of the Valley of Jehoshaphat, near En-Rogel, which was once 
“the king’s gardens.” This spot is green and fertile still; and 
when one has seen what water has done for the gardens of Urtas, 



















EN-ROGEL, PROM THE SOUTH. 






































































































































JERUSALEM—WITHOUT THE WALLS. 


171 


he can understand how beautiful those king’s gardens must once 
have been. 

But let us to Olivet and Bethany. 

The moment one leaves the gate of St. Stephen, which leads 
down to the Kidron, and thence to Olivet, he is struck with the 
unartistic roughness' of the road. The last thing on earth one 
would expect to see would be a city gate without a road leading to 
it. Yet there is no road here but a path steep and rough as one 
on the face of a Highland hill. A cautious man feels uneasy in 
riding down it, unless his horse be very sure-footed. He has every 
reason for fearing a glissade over the loose small stones. It has to 
all appearance been left to take care of itself since history began. 
But it is nevertheless the old highway to Bethany and Jericho. 
Fortunately, the descent is only two or three hundred feet. At 
the bottom, when the dry bed of the brook Kidron is passed, one 
finds himself in the angle between the road which leads directly 
over Olivet to Bethany and that which leads to the same point 
along the side of the hill to the right. At this spot tradition has 
placed the Garden of Gethsemane,—an unlikely place, in my 
humble opinion, from its want of seclusion ; for those roads must 
always have met here. How many quiet nooks are there not up 
the valley ! The priests, with their usual taste and their wonder¬ 
ful talent for spoiling every place which they wish to make sacred 
after their own fashion, have enclosed the fine old olives, which it 
is assumed mark the spot, within a square of high whitewashed 
walls, like what might surround a graveyard, and have made an 
ugly garden with flowerbeds within it! I did not enter the place. 
Who, were it even the actual spot, could indulge in those feelings 
it would be calculated to excite, with a monk at hand exhibiting 
as holy places “ the cave of agony,” “ the spot where the disciples 
fell asleep,” “where Judas betrayed Him,” &c. It would have 
been great enjoyment could I have sat alone, under those patriar¬ 
chal trees, with the rough hill-side or a bit of greensward beneath 















EASTWARD. 


17 2 


my feet. As it was, I preferred an undisturbed and quiet look 
over the wall at the grand old olives. It was something to think 
of all they have witnessed during the centuries in which they have 
been silently gazing at Jerusalem and on passers by. 

I ascended Olivet for the first time by the road which rises 
almost directly from Gethsemane to the mosque on the top of the 
hill, and which from thence descends to Bethany. This is the 
road along: which David walked in sorrow when he fled from 
Absalom, to take from the summit of Olivet his last sad look, for a 
time, of the beloved and holy Jerusalem which he had himself 
conquered—where he had reigned as the first obedient king 
“ according: to God’s own heart ”—and where he had contributed to 
the Temple-worship those songs of praise which have been more 
enduring, more expressive of the sorrows and joys of the Head of 
the Church and of all its members, than it was given even to him¬ 
self to know ; and which will be sung by generations yet unborn. 
It is a rough ascent—a commonplace country road—in no way 
associated with kingly processions of any kind, any more than was 
David’s own humble attire as a shepherd lad in the days of his 
youth with his splendour as a king or his immortal fame as a 
man. 

The view from the mosque on the summit of Olivet, or from a 
Waly a short way beyond it to the east, is famous. All travellers 
make a point of seeing it. If not the most extensive or command¬ 
ing in Palestine, it is on the whole the most interesting, although 
familiarity with Jerusalem takes away from the effect which it 
would have on any one who could see it as his first great prospect. 
Towards the east, and between us and the Dead Sea, we see the 
Wilderness of Judea,—bare, bleak, and desolate, as would be the 
rocky bottom of the sea if upheaved and left to bleach beneath a 
burning sun. We see also a bit of the Dead Sea—more than 3000 
feet below us—“ lying dead in its trough.” Though about 12 
miles off, it looks very near. It appears hot and steamy, with a 



















VIEW SHOWING THE KELAT1VE POSITIONS OF GETHSEMANE AND JERUSALEM. 































JERUSALEM—WITHOUT THE WALLS. 


173 


misty haze hanging over it. One cannot but associate all that is 
wiki, lonely, and mysterious, with this dismal lake. It does not 
suggest one noble thought, one act of greatness or goodness, done 
by man or woman alive or dead, to shed over it a redeeming ray of 
glory. We can also trace the course of the Jordan, from its line of 
green vegetation. The memories of the great and good which it 
recalls are a relief to the mind. Its entrance into the Dead Sea 
seems like life losing itself in death. There rises also before the 
eye—bolder and grander than when seen from Neby Samwil—the 
great eastern wall of the ridge of Moab, the separation between 
modern civilisation and almost unknown Arabia, with its ancient 
cities, far-spread pasture lands, arid wastes, powerful tribes, and 
primeval traditions. Standing on Olivet, one fully realises the 
contrast between East and West, with Palestine as their connect¬ 
ing bridge. 

From this point one also takes in at a glance, informed no doubt 
by some previous observation, the general topography of Jeru¬ 
salem. He is struck with the sort of promontory abutting from 
the general table-land on which it is built; with the wonderful 
defence against ancient modes of warfare afforded by the valleys 
that, like deep ditches, surround it on east and south, hindering 
any enemy from coming near its walls ; with the strong military 
positions which were afforded by the principal eminences within 
the city—such as the Temple Area, separated from Zion by the 
valley of the Tyropoean, and the high ground of Acra and Bezetha 
—eminences distinctly visible. The hills that surround Jerusalem 
are also visible, not only in the circling sweep of Olivet and its 
spurs, but further off in the ridge of which Neby Samwil is the 
highest point, and which is seen as a wall between the city and 
the heathen tribes dwelling by the sea. One can see how it 
rested like an eagle’s nest on a rocky eminence, or like a lion’s 
lair, visible from every side, yet not to be approached with im¬ 
punity ; and how Jerusalem visibly bore the motto of dear old 




















174 


EASTWARD. 


Scotland :—“ Nemo me impune lacessit.” The compactness of the 
city must also have been one of its marked features. There were 
no human habitations beyond its gates. There it lay like a chess¬ 
board, with its men, bishops, knights, and castles, within the walls, 
while all beyond was painfully empty and bare limestone every¬ 
where, with little of j^reen to relieve the eye. The inner eye alone 
is satisfied. 

But if the reader will again take the trouble to look at the 
small plan of the city and its environs (p. 118 ), and then at the 
views taken from different points, especially at those which serve 
as a frontispiece to this book, he will have a better idea of 
Jerusalem than any mere verbal description could give him.* 

I descended to Bethany by the same road as that pursued by 
David, when Hushai met him, and when Shimei cursed him. 

I v 7 as not disappointed with the appearance of Bethany. Had 
it been bare rock it would still have been holy ground. The 
village consists, as all others in Palestine do, of brown mud hovels 
with encircling mud walls—dust, confusion, children, dogs, and 
poverty. Everything is squalid as in Skibbcreen, Connemara, or, 
alas ! some villages in the Hebrides. But yet there are patches of 
greenery and trees to be seen, and the singing of birds to be heard ; 
while the broken ground, and glens, and “ braes,” with the glimpses 


* Let me act as interpreter of these views. The lower of the large panoramic 
views gives a general idea of the city as seen from the north side of the Mount of 
Olives. To the left is the Mount of Olives. The round hill-top seen beyond it in 
the distance is Jebel Fueridis, or the Herodion, that rises immediately above 
Bethlehem, and where Herod, the murderer of “ the Innocents,” is buried. The 
east and north walls of Jerusalem are seen. At the south end of the east wall is 
the Haram Area, extending from the corner, nearly to St. Stephen’s Gate, which is 
situated about the middle of the long white wall. 

The upper panoramic view is of the whole Haram Area, the Mosque of Omar 
and its platform, and various small Moslem buildings. The open space, with the 
Mosque el Aksah, the site (as I suppose) of the old Temple, is in the distant 
corner. 

The other views will be understood from my subsequent remarks. 











JERUSALEM—WITHOUT THE WALLS. 


US 


into the deep descent which leads to Jericho, save it from being 
commonplace, and give to it a certain wild, sequestered, Highland 
character of its own. When it was well cultivated and well 
wooded, it must have been of all the places near Jerusalem the 
most peaceful, as well as the most picturesque. 



Bethany, from the N.E., near the Jericho road. 


It is not possible, in such a spot, to be silent upon the miracle 
which will for ever be associated with Bethany. What though 
all that can be said may have been already said on the subject, 
still, like an old familiar melody, one loves to repeat it, and tries 
to re-produce the holy feelings of faith and adoration which it 
was intended to excite. What a comfort, for example, to the 
“ common people” of all lands, is the thought that “ Jesus loved 
Martha and Mary, and Lazarus,”—that He found rest and repose 
for his weary heart in the loving responses of this family, who, 
it may be, were quite unknown to the big and busy world of 
Sanhedrim and Synagogue in Jerusalem. How strengthening to 
know that those whom He loved were yet left in the profound 
mystery of a great sorrow, utterly unexplainable for a season. 
How strange that their brother Lazarus was permitted to sicken, 
die, and be buried, without even one word or comforting message 
from their Friend, their Lord and Saviour, who had nevertheless 



















176 


EASTWARD. 


heard and answered the prayers of the very heathen, and had 
healed their sick and raised their dead, in some cases without 
his even being asked to do so,—yet who came not to those He 
most loved when they most needed Him ! This silence was a dark 
cloud over the home of Bethany, and why then wonder that it has 
often since brooded' over homes as beloved ? How full of holy 
teaching, which ought to lighten us in our sorrow, is it to remem¬ 
ber that the Lord, in spite of appearances to the contrary, was all 
the while solving the intricate problem, how to do most good, not 
only to Lazarus himself, and to Martha and Mary, but also to the 
disciples and the Jews!—and that He was during this time 
pondering the awful question in regard to Himself and the 
world, whether it was God’s will that He should by raising Lazarus 
bring about his own death ! And is it not inexpressibly touching 
and humiliating to our shortsighted unbelief, to see how Martha 
and Mary had their faith weakened in his love, as if He could 
have “ overlooked their cause,”—an unbelief which was expressed 
in their words, “ If thou hadst been here our brother had not died,” 
and implied the rebuke, “ And why wert thou not here ? ” 

What a revelation too of a Saviour’s love are his tears, and his 
groans within Himself, occasioned by the heart-breaking spectacle, 
not of death which He was about to change into life, but of faith 
in Himself dying out in the very bosom of his best beloved. This 
sorrow of his was love manifested in its deepest, truest, divinest 
form. For while many can weep with us or for us, because of 
the death of a friend—a human sorrow which all can understand, 
and more or less share ; yet how few—none, indeed, but those 
who share the holy sympathies of Jesus—can weep for us because 
of our sin, or because our faith in God is dying or dead ! Twice 
only did He weep—on this occasion, and when entering Jerusalem 
a few days after from this same Bethany, on his road to death, 
through a conspiracy occasioned by his having raised Lazarus to 
life. And these tears were also shed on account of the same 




















COUNTRY BETWEEN JERUSALEM AND BETHANY, SHOWING THE THREE SUMMITS OF THE MOUNT OF OLIVES. 





































JERUSALEM—WITHOUT THE WALLS. 


177 


terrible unbelief. Think of it, reader ! To be suspected of want 
of love, as Jesus was, when, to raise his friend from the grave, He 
had resolved to die Himself, if God so willed it ! Mary must have 
felt this, when, full of unspeakable love, she anointed Him for 
his burial. 

Again, what a rehearsal was here, in, this otherwise common¬ 
place village, of the glorious time when we and our dead shall 
hear the same voice, and come forth from our graves, to sit down 
to a glorious feast above, with our happy social life restored ! * 

We returned from Bethany by the old road from Jericho, which 
first ascends from the village for about 100 yards, then descends 
along one side of a wady which opens out from the roots of Olivet, 
and, ascending the opposite side, debouches on the high ground 
leading across the flank of Olivet to Jerusalem. It there reaches 
a point opposite the south-east angle of the Temple, and from 
thence rapidly descends to Gethsemane. The place where Jesus 


* The English translator of Renan’s “Vie de Jdsus” informs us in his preface 
that “the great problem of the present age is to preserve the religious spirit, 
whilst getting rid of the superstitions and absurdities that deform it, and which 
are alike opposed to science and common-sense.” The manner in which M. Renan 
endeavours to get quit of the resurrection of Lazarus, is an illustration of how he 
would solve this problem. As to the part played by those whom Jesus loved in 
this supposed miracle, he says:—“It may be that Lazarus, still pallid with 
disease, caused himself to be wrapped in bandages as if dead, and shut up in the 
tomb of his family.” Jesus acquiesced in this pious fraud; but, as M. Renan 
observes, “ in the dull and impure city of Jerusalem, Jesus was no longer Himself. 
Not by any fault of his own, but by that of others, his conscience had lost some¬ 
thing of its original purity. Desperate and driven to extremity, He was no 
longer his own Mentor. His mission overwhelmed Him, and he yielded to its 
torrent.” Such was the conduct of Him of whom M. Renan is pleased to say :— 
“ All ages will proclaim that, among the sons of men, there is none born greater 
than Jesus.” We can but hope, for the sake of France, if not of humanity, that 
M. Renan himself is greater far in common honesty than he represents Jesus to 
have been. But after reading such sentiments, the tears of Jesus for the unbelief 
that wounded Him supply some comfort. We remember, too, how the Apostle 
Paul was once, like M. Renan, “ a blasphemer,” yet how he obtained mercy: a 
pattern to all who should hereafter believe in the name of J esus. 


A A 













1 7 S 


EASTWARD. 


beheld the city and wept over it is unquestionably that point. 
There Jerusalem suddenly bursts on the sight, but upon descend¬ 
ing a short distance further down the hill the view of it is rapidly 
concealed by the Haram wall.* 

It is impossible to journey along this road without having one’s 
thoughts filled with the scenes of that memorable day. But these, 
as well as the locality, have been so beautifully and accurately 
described by Dean Stanley, that I am persuaded those of my 
readers who have not access to his book will be obliged to me 
for transcribing his description instead of attempting one of my 
own :— 

“In the morning, He set forth on his journey. Three pathways 
lead, and probably always led, from Bethany to Jerusalem ; one, 
a long circuit over the northern shoulder of Mount Olivet, down 
the valley which parts it from Scopus ; another a steep footpath 
over the summit; the third, the natural continuation of the road 
by which mounted travellers always approach the city from 
Jericho, over the southern shoulder, between the summit which 

* I think it is quite possible to enable the reader to see clearly where this spot 
is, if he will again consult the Plan (p. 118) and the Illustrations. He should in 
the first place look at the “ View given of the Country between Jerusalem and 
Bethany.” He will there notice at the right comer, near the top, the line of 
the road from Bethany ere it descends out of sight into the glen. He can trace it 
along the bare, open hill-side, until opposite the comer of the Haram Wall, which 
is on the extreme left of the view. 

Two other illustrations are given to enable the reader to understand the relative 
position of this, one of the most profoundly interesting spots in the world. 

In the picture “ Mount Moriah and the Mount of Olives, with the Kidron 
Valley, Siloam, and Mount of Corruption, from the South,” the place of weeping is 
on the right, in the white road, and about where two trees are seen under the 
mosque on the top of Olivet. In another illustration, that of the “ Tombs in 
the Valley of Jehoshaphat,” it is above the tomb on the right of the picture. 

I may add, that the hill-top, the second from the right-hand comer in the 
“ View of the Country between Jerusalem and Bethany,” is probably the scene of 
that stupendous event which occurred when our Saviour led his disciples out as 
far as Bethany and ascended in their sight, blessing them, and blessing the earth 
yet wet with his blood. 




















VIEW FROM THE SPOT WHERE CHRIST BEHELD THE CITY, AHD WEPT OVER IT. 


















































































JERUSALEM—WITHOUT THE WALLS. 


179 


contains the Tombs of the Prophets and that called the ‘ Mount of 
Offence.’ There can be no doubt that this last is the road of the 
Entry of Christ, not only because, as just stated, it is, and must 
always have been, the usual approach for horsemen and for large 
caravans such as then were concerned, but also because this is 
the only one of the three approaches which meets the require¬ 
ments of the narrative which follows. 

“ Two vast streams of people met on that day. The one poured 
out from the city, and as they came through the gardens whose 
clusters of palm rose on the southern corner of Olivet, they cut 
down the long branches, as was their wont at the Feast of Taber¬ 
nacles, and moved upwards towards Bethany, with loud shouts of 
welcome. From Bethany streamed forth the crowds who had 
assembled there on the previous night, and who came testifying 
to the great event at the sepulchre of Lazarus. The road soon 
loses sight of Bethany. It is now a rough, but still broad and 
well-defined mountain track, winding over rock and loose stones ; 
a steep declivity below on the left; the sloping shoulder of Olivet 
above on the right; fig-trees below and above, here and there 
growing out of the rocky soil. Along the road the multitudes 
threw down the boughs severed from the olive-trees through which 
they were forcing their way, or spread out a rude matting formed 
of the palm-branches which they had already cut as they came 
out. The larger portion—those, perhaps, who had escorted Him 
from Bethany—unwrapped their loose cloaks from their shoulders, 
and stretched them along the rough path, to form a momentary 
carpet as He approached. The two streams met midway. Half 
of the vast mass, turning round, preceded ; the other half followed. 
Gradually the long procession swept up and over the ridge, where 
first begins ‘the descent of the Mount of Olives’ towards Jeru¬ 
salem. At this point the first view is caught of the south-eastern 
corner of the city. The Temple and the more northern portions 
are hid by the slope of Olivet on the right; what is seen is only 















i8o 


EASTWARD. 


Mount Zion, now for the most part a rough field, crowned with the 
Mosque of David and the angle of the western walls, but then 
covered with houses to its base, surmounted by the Castle of 
Herod, on the supposed site of the palace of David, from which 
that portion of Jerusalem, emphatically ‘ The City of David,’ de¬ 
rived its name. It Was at this precise point, ‘ as He drew near, at 
the descent of the Mount of Olives,’—may it not have been from 
the sight thus opening upon them ?—that the hymn of triumph, 
the earliest hymn of Christian devotion, burst forth from the mul¬ 
titude, ‘ Hosanna to the son of David! Blessed is He that corneth 
in the name of the Lord. Blessed is the kingdom that cometh of 
our father David. Hosanna . . . peace . . . glory in the highest.’ 
There was a pause as the shout rang through the long defile; and, 
as the Pharisees who stood by in the crowd complained, He pointed 
to the ‘ stones ’ which, strewn beneath their feet, would imme¬ 
diately ‘ cry out ’ if ‘ these were to hold their peace.’ * 

“ Again the procession advanced. The road descends a slight 
declivity, and the glimpse of the city is again withdrawn behind 
the intervening ridge of Olivet. A few moments, and the path 
mounts again ; it climbs a rugged ascent, it reaches a ledge of 
smooth rock, and in an instant the whole city bursts into view. 
As now the dome of the Mosque El-Aksah rises like a ghost from 
the earth before the traveller stands on a ledge, so then must have 
risen the Temple-tower; as now the vast inclosure of the Mussul¬ 
man sanctuary, so then must have spread the Temple-courts ; as 
now the gray town on its broken hills, so then the magnificent 
city, with its background—long since vanished away—of gardens 


* I was surprised to find on one occasion, when standing with my brother at this 
spot on the Mount of Olives, that other two of our party who stood at the comer 
of the Haram wall on the other side of the valley, could distinctly hear our words 
addressed to them when spoken in a loud and clear voice. 

The priests in the Temple may have thus heard the very words of the loud and 
jubilant song of triumph which welcomed the Messias. 











JERUSALEM—WITHOUT THE WALLS. 181 


and suburbs on the western plateau behind. Immediately below 
was the Valley of the Kidron, here seen in its greatest depth as it 
joins the Valley of Hinnom, and thus giving full effect to the great 
peculiarity of Jerusalem seen only on its eastern side—its situa¬ 
tion as of a city rising out of a deep abyss. It is hardly possible 
to doubt that this rise and turn of the road, this rocky ledge, was 
the exact point where the multitude paused again, and He, ‘ when 
He beheld the city, wept over it.’ 

“ Nowhere else on the Mount of Olives is there a view like this. 
By the two other approaches above mentioned, over the summit 
and over the northern shoulder of the hill, the city reveals itself 
gradually; there is no partial glimpse, like that which has been 
just described as agreeing so well with the first outbreak of popular 
acclamation, still less is there any point where, as here, the city 
and Temple would suddenly burst into view, producing the sudden 
and affecting impression described in the Gospel narrative. And 
this precise coincidence is the more remarkable because the tradi¬ 
tional route of the Triumphal Entry is over the summit of Olivet; 
and the traditional spot of the lamentation is at a place half-way 
down the mountain, to which the description is wholly inapplicable, 
whilst no tradition attaches to this, the only road by which a large 
procession could have come; and this, almost the only spot of 
the Mount of Olives which the Gospel narrative fixes with exact 
certainty, is almost the only unmarked spot, —undefiled or unhal¬ 
lowed by mosque or church, chapel or tower,—left to speak for 
itself, that here the Lord stayed his onward march, and here his 
eyes beheld what is still the most impressive view which the 
neighbourhood of Jerusalem furnishes, and the tears rushed forth 
at the sight. 

“ After this scene, which, with the one exception of the conversa¬ 
tion at the Well of Jacob, stands alone in the Gospel history for the 
vividness and precision of its localisation, it is hardly worth while 
to dwell on the spots elsewhere pointed out by tradition or pro- 





EASTWARD. 


182 


bability on the rest of the mountain. They belong, for the most 
part, to the ‘ Holy Places ’ of later pilgrimage, not to the authentic 
illustrations of the Sacred History.” 

I spent my last Sunday in Jerusalem on the Mount of Olives. 
It was a day never to be forgotten; one of those heavenly days 
which cannot die, but become part of one’s life. Alone, with no 
comjmnion but my Bible, I went along the Via Dolorosa, passed 
out by St. Stephen’s Gate, descended to Gethsemane, and from 
thence pursued the old road already described, which leads to 
Bethany and Jericho, by the western slope of Olivet overlooking 
the valley of Jehoshaphat. At the summit of the short ascent a 
few ledges of limestone rock, carpeted with greensward, crop out 
beside the path, and afford a natural resting-place, of which I 
availed myself. The old wall and the well-known corner of the 
Haram Area were immediately opposite me, and so visibly near in 
the pure, transparent atmosphere that the stones could be counted, 
and the green tufts of the plants among them. The day was of 
course cloudless and hot, but it was not oppressive, for the air was 
stirred by a gentle breeze with a mountain freshness in it. Though 
the city was so near, with most of its people pursuing their usual 
avocations both within and without the walls, yet no sound dis¬ 
turbed the intense repose except, strange to say, the crowing of 
cocks, as if at early morn, and the shouts of a solitary peasant who 
was urging his plough across the once busy but now deserted 
slopes of Ophel. I gazed on Jerusalem until it seemed to be a 
dream—a white ghostly city in the silent air. My thoughts took 
no fixed shape, but were burthened with a weight, almost oppres¬ 
sive, from ages of history; or were lost in the presence of some 
undefined source of awe, wonder, and sorrow. I was recalled, how¬ 
ever, to what was very near when I opened my Bible, and read 
these words : “As lie went out of the Temple * one of his disciples 


Was this by the Double Gate in the south wall I have already described, with 











JERUSALEM—WITHOUT THE WALLS. 183 


saith unto Him, Master, see what manner of stones and what 
buildings are here ? And Jesus answering said unto him, Seest 
thou these great buildings ? There shall not be left one stone 
upon another, that shall not be thrown down. And as He sat 
upon the Mount of Olives over against the Temple, Peter and 
James and John and Andrew asked Him privately, Tell us, when 
shall these things be ? and what shall be the sign when all these 
things shall be fulfilled ?” And if Jesus on his way to Bethany 
“ sat upon the Mount of Olives over against the Temple ,” there is 
certainly no place I could discover which was so likely to be the 
very spot as the one which I occupied. Here, in this holy place 
untouched by the hand of man, unnoticed, and apparently un¬ 
known, I read the prophecies, parables, and exhortations of our 
Lord uttered in the hearing of his holy Apostles, and recorded for 
all time in the 24th and 25th chapters of St. Matthew. They 
include, among others, the prophecies of his first coming at the 
destruction of Jerusalem, then in her glory, now so desolate—with 
his second coming at the end of the world; the parables of the ten 
virgins and of the ten talents, and the trial of love at the last 
judgment—all ending in the touching announcement, “ Ye know 
that after two days is the feast of the passover, and the Son of 
Man is betrayed to be crucified ! ” “ All these sayings ” I read 

undisturbed while sitting over against the old wall within which 
the Temple once rose in its strength and glory, but not one stone 
of which is now left upon another. 

While pondering over the words of Christ, I was struck by 
seeing near me a fig-tree, with its branches putting forth leaves, 
and in some places young figs. The unexpected illustration 
of the words I had just read, as here first uttered, “ When 
the fig-tree putteth forth leaves, ye know summer is nigh,” 
brought to my mind that surely these were spoken at the same 


the great stones all around, and which was, as far as I can judge, the one by which 
He would pass from the Temple towards Olivet ? 




















184 EASTWARD. 


season of the year as that in which I read them, and I was at once 
reminded that the day was Palm Sunday, the anniversary of the 
very time when our Lord had wept here over Jerusalem, and had 
also delivered those discourses. 

When in Palestine I felt that there were times in which the 
past seemed so present, Christ and his word so living and real, 
that had any one suddenly appeared, and said, “ I saw Him, and 
heard Him,” I should not have been surprised ; and this day was 
one of them. 

From this spot I went to that other, very near, where our Lord 
wept over Jerusalem. I will not attempt to express here what 
those human tears seem to me to reveal of “ the mind of Christ,” 
the Son of God and the Son of Man, regarding man’s sin ; what 
they reveal of man’s loss, not only to himself but also to his 
Saviour; and of the unutterable love that would save, as well as 
of the mysterious wilfulness that would not be saved. For though 
it is difficult for a minister of the Gospel to refrain from uttering 
his thoughts on such profoundly interesting topics, yet it is neces¬ 
sary to impose some restraint on their expression, as almost every 
spot in Palestine is a text for such meditations. 

There is one feature of the view from this spot which I was not 
prepared for, and which greatly impressed me. It is the Jewish 
burying-ground. For centuries, I kuowmot how many, Jews of 
every country have come to die in Jerusalem that they might be 
buried in the valley of Jehoshaphat. Their wish to lie here is 
connected with certain superstitious views regarding the Last 
Judgment (which they believe is to take place on this spot), and 
certain privileges which are to be then bestowed on all who are 
here interred. And thus thousands, possibly millions, of the most 
bigoted and superstitious Israelites, from every part of the world, 
have in the evening of life flocked to this the old “ city of their 
solemnities,” that after death they might be gathered to their 
fathers beneath the shadow of its walls. 





i8 5 


JERUSALEM—WITHOUT THE WALLS. 


I never saw a graveyard to me so impressive. Scutari is far 
more extensive, and more terribly deathlike. But from its huddled 
monuments and crowded trees, it is impossible to penetrate its 
dark and complicated recesses. Here, there are no monuments, 
and no trees. Each grave is covered by a flat stone with Hebrew 
inscriptions, and has nothing between it and the open sky. These 
stones pave the whole eastern slope of the valley. Every inch of 



Tombs in the Valley of Jehoshaphat, with Jews’ Burial Ground. 


ground where a human body can lie is covered. Along the banks 
of the Kidron, up the side of Olivet, and across the road leading 
from Bethany to Jerusalem, stretches this vast city of the dead. 
As a place of burial it differs from almost every other on earth, 
in being, as no other is, a witness to a faith that is firm, decided, 
and uncompromising until death. It is not therefore merely the 
vast multitude who sleep here, but the faith which they held in 
regard to their Messias, that makes this spectacle so impressive, 
especially when seen from the spot where He had wept over 
Jerusalem. Remembering all the wanderings of the lost sheep of 
Israel, all they had suffered, since the Lord had mourned for them 
standing here, and their long and dreary night of unbelief in his 



















EASTWARD. 


186 


mission and in liis love, his words had, if possible, a deeper and 
more awful meaning. I seemed to see Him standing again and 
weeping here, and addressing those who crowded up to the very 
place where He had stood and wept while on earth, and again 
saying to them, “ 0 Jerusalem, Jerusalem! how often would I 
have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her 
chickens under her wings, and ye would not.” “ 0 that thou, even 
thou, hadst known the things of thy peace ; but now they are hid 
from thine eyes ! ” 

And when the question as to the future hope of Israel was here 
suggested, how vividly did the scene before me realise the vision 
of the Prophet and at the same time furnish the only answer I 
could give to the question :—“ The hand of the Lord was upon me, 
and carried me out in the spirit of the Lord, and set me down in 
the midst of the valley which was full of bones, and caused me to 
pass by them round about: and, behold, there were very many in 
the open valley ; and lo, they were very dry. And he said unto 
me, Son of man, can these bones live ? And I answered, O Lord 
God, thou knowest. Again he said unto me, Prophesy upon these 
bones, and say unto them, O ye dry bones, hear the w r ord of the 
Lord. Thus saith the Lord God unto these bones; Behold, I 
will cause breath to enter into you, and ye shall live : and I will 
lay sinews upon you, and will bring up Hesli upon you, and cover 
you with skin, and put breath in you, and ye shall live; and ye 
shall know r that I am the Lord. So I prophesied as I was com¬ 
manded : and as I prophesied, there w r as a noise, and behold a 
shaking, and the bones came together, bone to his bone. And 
when I beheld, lo, the sinews and the flesh came up upon them, and 
the skin covered them above; but there was no breath in them. 
Then said he unto me, Prophesy unto the wind, prophesy, son of 
man, and say to the wind, Thus saith the Lord God ; Come from 
the four wflnds, 0 breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they 
may live. So I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath 















JERUSALEM—WITHOUT THE WALLS. 


187 


came into them, and they lived, and stood up upon their feet, an 
exceeding great army. Then he said unto me, Son of man, these 
bones are the whole house of Israel : behold, they say, Our bones 
are dried, and our hope is lost: we are cut off for our parts. 
Therefore prophesy and say unto them, Thus saith the Lord God ; 
Behold, O my people, I will open your graves, and cause you to 
come up out of your graves, and bring you into the land of Israel. 
And ye shall know that I am the Lord, when I have opened your 
graves, O my people, and brought you up out of your graves, and 
shall put my spirit in you, and ye shall live, and I shall place you 
in your own land : then shall ye know that I the Lord have spoken 
it, and performed it, saith the Lord.” 

Before I returned to Jerusalem I wandered anions' the solitudes 
of Olivet—hardly knowing where. I sat and read my Bible under 
one tree, and then under another; descended some glen, or 
unknown and solitary nook, feeling only that this was Olivet, and 
that the whole hill was consecrated by the Saviour. But one 
experience which possessed me I remember with gratitude ; and 
it was, of the presence of Christ everywhere, and of the true 
worship of God not being on this mountain or that, but wherever 
any child is found to worship Him in spirit and in truth. I was 
not tempted even to fancy, on that holy day, that Christ was 
nearer to me, or prayer more real in Jerusalem or on Olivet, than 
when I entered “ into my closet and shut the door” amidst the 
everyday world of Glasgow. And so, while I thanked God with 
my whole heart for having permitted me to visit these spots, which 
shed such a light on the history of the Holy One who in flesh had 
lived and moved among them, I felt, if possible, still more thankful 
for the conviction, now deepened, that the poorest in my parish at 
home—the busy artisan, the man or woman in the dark lane, the 
crowded alley, or the lonely garret—could through simple faith 
and childlike love enjoy the presence, the grace, and the peace of 
Christ, as truly as if they were able to make a pilgrimage to the 
















188 


EASTWARD. 


Holy Land, and to worship, on the Lord’s Day, among the recesses 
of Olivet, or on the spots consecrated of old by the bodily presence 
of the Saviour. Most thankful was I for knowing the Person, not 
the place, was holy—that his love was not local but universal; 
and that not only among the silent hills of Palestine, in Jerusalem, 
Nazareth, or Tiberias, but in our crowded cities, common-place 
villages, highland glens, and in every nook and corner of the great 
palace of our Father, Jesus may be known, loved, obeyed, and 
glorified. With thanksgiving, I repeated on Olivet : — 

“ There are in this loud stunning tide 
Of human care and crime, 

With whom the melodies abide 
Of th’ everlasting chime,— 

Who carry music in their heart 
Through dusky lane and wrangling mart. 

Plying their daily task with busier feet 
Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat.” 
















VIII. 




THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OE JERUSALEM. 

THE JORDAN, THE DEAD SEA, AND MAR SABA. 

Like all travellers in Palestine, we of course paid a visit to the 
Jordan and Dead Sea. 

To accomplish the journey, we were advised to take a guard. 
The very proposal threw a certain air of romantic danger over the 
expedition. I almost began to regret that I had no sujiply of 
bullets for my revolver; and to become painfully doubtful of its 
even being free from rust, to say nothing of the trustworthiness of 
the caps, should the trigger ever be drawn. But if it came to 
fighting, which I sincerely deprecated as involving a most unworthy 
position for a clergyman, I had fortunately no doubt whatever of 
my utter incapacity to hit either man or horse, should I be fool 
enough to try ; and was confident that I would adopt no other 
course in the event of a “ scrimmage,” than that of either yield¬ 
ing with all grace to the Ishmaelite, or, if possible, galloping off. 
There was no use, however, in speculating as to how one would 
feel or look, if stripped and robbed in the wilderness. It was 
enough to know that we had resolved to see certain places, and 
that an escort was necessary, come weal or woe. 

Let me illustrate the position of a modern traveller wishing to 
see the Dead Sea, by a parallel case which might have occurred to 
a Sassenach wishing to visit Loch Lomond in the days of the Sheik 
Rob Roy, when his tribe of the Gregarach were in possession of 
one side of the lake. The traveller, we will suppose, reaches 
Glasgow on horseback a few weeks after leaving London, and 











EASTWARD. 


190 


brings with him a letter of introduction to Bailie Nicol Jarvie 
from some Scotch merchant in the metropolis. He applies to the 
Bailie for advice as to the safest manner of accomplishing his 
purpose of seeing the frontier wilderness of the Highlands. The 
magistrate speaks of its danger; and is ready, over his ale in the 
Saltmarket, to narrate his own adventures and escapes at Aber- 
foyle—but comforts the traveller by the assurance that the red- 
haired Sheik, Rob, happens to be in town ; that he is a friend of 
his, having more than once saved him from the clutch of the 
Pasha Provost; and that he will easily arrange for a guard, on 
black-mail being paid. The Sassenach smiles at the idea, points 
to his fire-arms, talks contemptuously of the savage Gregarach, 
enlarges on the grandeur of the Saxon, and resolves to go with his 
own servant John only. The Sheik hears this, and vows vengeance 
for being thus done out of 51., which would keep his spleuchan, or 
pouch, full of tobacco for months. So he summons his henchman, 
the Dugald Cratur, and tells him to be off to the Wady of Bal- 
maha, and there assemble half a dozen of his tribe, to lie in wait 
among the heather and behind the rocks with their long guns, 
until they see a white-faced Sassenach, with trousers, coming 
along,—then to fire some powder, rush at him with a yell, roar 
Gaelic in his ear, rob him,—but do no more. “ The next chiel,” 
adds the Sheik, taking a snuff, “ will be more ceevil.” Thus would 
act in all probability the Rob Roy of the Taamireh, Allaween, 
Anazi, Beni Sakker, or any other tribe. No doubt at Loch 
Lomond the Graham might dispute the right with the Gregarach 
of keeping the Wady of Balmaha as a preserve or net for travel¬ 
lers, and they might accordingly fight Rob or Dugald, when travel¬ 
lers were under their protection and paying them black-mail. So 
might the Anazi fight the Taamireh. Still it is better for every 
reason to pay and take your chance, assured that then you are, in 
ordinary circumstances—the extraordinary being easily ascertained 
before leaving Jerusalem—quite as safe in going to most spots in 













THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF JERUSALEM. 


191 


Palestine as to most spots in Europe, especially Italy. And there 
is one real advantage gained by such arrangements, that is the 
security given, and respected, that any property stolen will be 
replaced. 

A tall Arab Sheik, in a shabby dressing-gown, with turban 
above, and bare legs thrust into clouted shoes below, did us the 
honour of squatting himself on our divan one evening, and of 
agreeing to protect us with the lives of all his tribe. The trifling 
sum asked for this service, it must be presumed, expressed the 
small extent of our risk and the little value put upon the lives of 
the warriors who might be sacrificed, rather than that put upon 
their honour. 

The day before we started I was loitering in the streets and by¬ 
lanes of the city seeing what I could see. When opposite the 
Austrian Consul’s house I was attracted by a troop of Arab horse¬ 
men drawn up in loose array. A handsomely-dressed Turk was 
calling over their names. They had formed the guard, I was told, 
of the Duke of Modena from Jaffa to Jerusalem, and were now 
being paid off. In my life I never beheld such a set of raga¬ 
muffins ! The horses were far superior in their breeding to those 
who rode them ; they were small, thin, and wiry, but with a life in 
their eyes and a defleshed firmness of muscle which marked them 
as fit for enduring hard work. Their riders wore the usual Arab 
dress. They had kaffiahs bound with cord round their heads ; 
their cotton or camel-hair garments were sufficiently thin and 
loose ; their feet were stuck into coarse leather sandals or boots ; 
and they were accoutred with long spears and guns slung over 
their backs. Their faces were studies ! Each rose from its own 
neck a distinct individual face, with all the essentials of a face, 
but these were arranged with an art which I had never seen 
before, concentrating scoundrel in every feature, and forming a 
combined whole to me quite unparalleled. I singled out two or 
three, and pictured to myself the feelings of any decorous parson, 










192 


EASTWARD. 


or sensitive lady, who might fall into such hands on the lonely and 
bituminous shores of the Dead Sea, and who might endeavour to 
read their fate in the expression of such countenances ! One man, 
a black, seemed to me the personification of animal ugliness. 

Next day, when our escort was mustered, I discovered among 
them my black friend, and some of my other studies of human 
villany. But I am bound in justice to add, that, after having been 
politely introduced to them, and making their acquaintance through 
our mutual friend Hadji Ali, and having done all I could to dis¬ 
cover the cloven foot in them, the impression made upon me was, 
that they were all very good-natured and obliging fellows,—inclined 
no doubt, like all the children of Jacob as well as of Esau, to 
backsheesh, but on the whole pleasant and agreeable, and I should 
think much in advance of the Gregarach of old. I have no doubt 
that, in the event of a fight, they would have fired their guns, in a 
way I could not have done mine, but I have also no doubt that 
had I bolted they would have accompanied me (in kindness no 
doubt), and have even led the way far ahead. 

We clattered over the stones of the Via Dolorosa, passed through 
St. Stephen’s Gate, ascended the slope of Olivet, skirted the mud 
hovels of Bethany, and immediately began the rapid descent of 
the gorge leading for about twenty miles to Jericho. This road 
has been made for ever famous, not so much, strange to say, by the 
fact that along it our Lord journeyed, as by his glorious parable of 
the Good Samaritan, in which the religion of charity, and his own 
universal love to his “ neighbour,” are so grandly illustrated. 

The descent from Jerusalem to the Dead Sea is, as the reader 
knows, a half greater than that from Jerusalem to the Mediter¬ 
ranean. In round numbers, it is twice 1300 feet from Jerusalem 
to the Mediterranean, three times 1300 from Jerusalem to the 
surface of the Dead Sea, and four times 1300 to the bottom of the 
Dead Sea. We had therefore to descend about 4000 feet. 

















THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF JERUSALEM. 193 


The part of the descent immediately below Bethany is the 
steepest. There is a path here of loose stones and smooth rock, 
which rapidly plunges into the head of the long valley. I here 
deemed it safe and prudent, both for man and beast, to dismount 
and lead my horse. It must have been up this steep our Saviour 
toiled, on his momentous journey from Jericho to Bethany. And 
to the summit of this ascent, or possibly from it, gazing along the 
windings of the glen, must Martha and Mary have turned their 
longing and expectant gaze for the coming of the Saviour to heal 
their brother Lazarus. Up this- road the wondering crowd had 
accompanied Him from Jericho, with one joyful man among them, 
the blind beggar Bartimeus, who having received his sight, beheld 
with a greater sense of novelty and wonder, than any traveller 
before or since, those wild scaurs and rocky uplands—unless indeed 
his eyes were fixed on one object only, Jesus, the Son of David, 
who had mercy on him. 

On reaching the bottom of this rapid descent, and passing a 
well and the ruins of an old khan, our road ran right along the 
bottom of the valley. It was a bare, bleak, dry, limestone bit of 
scenery, but not tamer or more uninteresting than many places 
which I have traversed, even in Scotland. But after a few miles, 
when we got entangled among broken uplands and deep gorges, 
lonely, wild, and dreary in the extreme, things began to have a 
wilderness and Dead-Sea look. We rested at a spot well known 
to every traveller, near an old inn or khan now in ruins, which was 
famous as a sort of rendezvous for brigands, and where Sir Francis 
Ilenneker was robbed and wounded forty years ago. We did not, 
however, even catch a glimpse of man or boy prowling near. Was 
this the “ inn ” alluded to by the Saviour, to which the good 
Samaritan is represented as bringing the suffering stranger ? It 
may have been some well-known spot like this, the parable gaining, 
to those who heard it, more vividness and reality by a local allu¬ 
sion. I may mention here, that, strange to say, this was the only 

c 0 ■ 






194 


EASTWARD. 


part of onr journey in Palestine where we saw any signs of cruelty. 
Two Arabs going to Jericho were driving before them a miserable 
skeleton-looking horse with a knee hideously diseased. The brute 
could hardly touch the ground with its agonised limb, but ever and 
anon it did so, leaving spots of blood on the road. It w r as vain to 
expostulate with its drivers ; so for the sake of our own feelings, 
as well as for the sake of the wretched creature, w T e resolved to 
purchase it and shoot it. The skin alone, we thought, could be of 
any value to its owners ; and our dragoman agreed that our offer 
of 100 piastres, about ll., was therefore a handsome price. But it 
was indignantly refused, and 1000 piastres demanded ! And so 
the brute was driven on, at a rate too, which, fortunately for us at 
least, enabled it to get so far ahead that we lost sight of it. An¬ 
other act, equally out of harmony with the spirit of the good 
Samaritan, was perpetrated by our escort. They seized a lamb 
from a flock and drove it on before them. We expostulated as 
earnestly as did its owner, but the deed was justified by the chiefs 
on some principle of black-mail which in their opinion made the 
claim a right, though we more than suspected it to be a robbery. 
So much for the unloving spirit still seen on the way from Jericho 
to Jerusalem. 

Soon after passing the old khan, we entered a narrow path full 
of interest. Immediately below us, to the left, was a deep gorge 
that cut its way through bare rocky precipices, between which, 
500 feet down, a fresh full mountain-stream rushed along to the 
plain of the Jordan. This was the Wady Kelt, and in all proba¬ 
bility the brook Cherith where Elijah was supported during the 
famine. And here, as confirming the conjecture, we noticed many 
ravens, and heard their hoarse croak echoing from the wild 
precipices. We saw remains of old aqueducts, and other build¬ 
ings. The precipices were also dotted here and there with cave- 
like holes, the first mementoes we had seen of the old hermits 
who once lived here, like grey bats, nourishing their strange 




















AIN ES SELTaN. 




























































































































































THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF JERUSALEM. 


195 


religious life. Remains of old chapels, in which they had 
worshipped and had caught some glimpses of a higher life and 
of a better country, were visible on the heights. 

O 11 and down we went, winding through this arid waste, until 
at last we saw the plain of Jericho stretching below us, dotted 
with verdure produced by the mountain springs, and stretching, 
a grey flat with patches of wood here and there, until its hare 
shore-like surface was fringed, ten miles off, by the line of vege¬ 
tation shading the unseen and deep bed of the Jordan. Beyond 
the Jordan rose the grand ridge of Moab, and to the right appeared 
the northern bay of the Dead Sea. Down, down, we crept, always 
thinking we would in a few minutes reach the lowest level, but 
always finding a lower still. But every lane has a turning, and so 
had ours ; and right glad were avc when it turned to the left, as 
the shades of evening were drawing over us, and we saw our white 
tents, pitched where those of many a thankful and weary traveller 
had been pitched before, under the Quarantania, and near the Ain 
es Sultan, or Fountain of Elisha. 

Oh, what a blessed sight are those tents ! What a paradise 
do they appear to a weary man after a day’s ride, when everything 
is hot, from the heavens above to the eaidh beneath, and to the 
very w r aters under the earth. Your horse begins to neigh, and to 
pace along with cocked ears, the prospect of fodder being as 
cheering to him as Mohammed’s dinner is to us. And then, after 
ablutions, how delighful to lean down on the camp bed ; and after 
dinner and pleasant friendly talk about the sights and adventures 
of the day, to go out in the cool night, with the world of stars all 
twinkling in the unsurpassed .sky of this low region ; to catch 
picturesque glimpses of the Arabs in the dim light around their 
fires; to hear the awful stillness of the silent land : and then to 
sleep, as motionless as a desert stone ! 

But before falling into this unconscious state, we here exhibited 
a few fireworks which we had brought from London (cockney 





















196 


EASTWARD. 


fashion) for the purpose of amusing the Arabs, or maybe with the 
innocent hope of awing the desert tribes by a revelation of wonder 
and pow r er. 

The musical snuff-box was our opus magnum* but the Roman 
candles were our most imposing spectacle. I had the honour, as 
the Hakeem Pasha, of letting them off in the presence of what 
the newspapers would describe as an “ attentive and admiring 
audience.” They shot aloft with great success, and “ fortunately 
no accident occurred.” Our Arabs wore delighted, even Meeki 
smiled, and condescendingly manifested a sense of agreeable 
sui-prise. Had any robbers been prowling about the plain looking- 
for plunder, it is more than likely, as we afterwards concluded, 
that our fireworks, instead of frightening them aw r ay, would 
rather have attracted them to our tents. 

We gave our escort a homely supper of rice mixed with various 
ingredients prepared by the cook. They eagerly seized the food 
with their fingers, dexterously moulded it, and chucked it into 
their mouths, as they squatted round the large dish placed in the 
centre of their circle. In return they danced one of their dances, 
if dance it could be called where the body and not the foot moved. 
Twelve of them formed a line, while their chief with drawn sword 
stood facing them. They then began with a low monotonous 
chant, or rather howl, to move backwards and forwards, while he 
moved, and swayed, and ducked, making fantastic* movements 
with his sword. And so on it went, utterly unintelligible to us. 
It had, of course, a meaning, to one able and learned enough to 

* Since mentioning, in a previous section, the grand occasion on which we brought 
high class music in our snuff-box to the Gibeonites, I have heard with great pleasure 
that the Marquis of B——, when he encamped on the same spot this spring, was 
beset with aj plications for a display of Hakeem Pasha’s art! Our dragoman 
Hadji Ali being with him, the mystery of these applications was soon explained. 
In olden time the box would have been the occasion of rearing a fane to Pan or 
Apollo. But unless some other travellers soon follow our example, we fear the 
echoes will die out. 




















THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF JERUSALEM. 


197 


appreciate it; but to us it had none, and sundry attempts on 
Hadji Ali’s part to make it plain, only served to convince us that 
he, too, knew nothing about it. So we were glad when it ceased, 
and we could retire to our tents without giving offence. These 
men, let us record it, in spite of their singular abstemiousness and 
“total abstinence”—or because of these, as “the League” would 
say—underwent a wonderful amount of physical endurance. 
During our journey they hunted partridges (which they fired at 
only when the birds sat) and gazelles along the whole road—now 
running down the valleys, and again rushing to the tops of the 
rocks with unwearied perseverance and activity. They managed 
to kill a gazelle and a brace of partridges, which we bought from 
them. Yet at the end of their day’s journey, which they had 
made double by their exertions, they challenged us to race them ; 
and for about two hundred yards they kept up with our horses 
urged to their highest speed, which, however, it must be admitted, 
was not equal to the Dei'by stride. 

I remembered, while seeing them, the fact of Elijah running 
before the chariot of Ahab from Carmel to Jezreel. His was not, 
after all, such a feat of physical strength, considering the state of 
the roads, and the probably somewhat slow driving of the king, as 
was that of our Arabs. 

Next morning we enjoyed a view of the cliffs of Quarantania, 
which we had examined rapidly the evening before. The high 
pyramidal precipice was honeycombed with hermits’ cells. A 
ruined chapel was on the summit. We were afterwards informed 
by an English clergyman, who, with great difficulty and no small 
danger (owing to the destruction of portions of the narrow 
footpaths), had examined them by help of ropes, guides, and cool 
climbing, that there were interesting remains of Byzantine frescoes 
in the chapels, still fresh and vivid in their colours. They had, 
however, no interest as works of art, but only as ecclesiastical remains 
of a strange and interesting episode in the history of religion. 














198 


EASTWARD. 


It is strange indeed to think of the world of thought, politics, 
and opinions, which interested those hermits, as they crept from 
cavern to cavern, or sat in groups on their limestone seats gazing 
from their rocks of sure defence, over the plain, on to the Dead 
Sea, and wild hills beyond. There some of them lived, no doubt, 
their fourscore years or more, talking about the Greek Fathers, 
and the persecution of the Arians, and worshipping, amidst the 
awful silence of the hills, with the stars and God above, and scenes 
of desolation and death below; until they died, and were laid 
beside old friends in a dark cave. Yet our union with these old 
and gnarled specimens of mortality, in so far as they held com¬ 
munion with the same Father and through the same Saviour, is 
more real than we can have with any others on earth who are 
without God and Christ in the world. 

We started at early morn for the Jordan and Dead Sea. The 
day promised to be hot, if indeed a cool one was ever known at 
the bottom of this singular hollow since the day it was formed by 
its restless and hot parents, the earthquake and volcano. 

After visiting the Ain es Sultan, and rejoicing in the delicious 
though not very cool water springing from its limestone cave, we 
gazed on the great mounds on every side, speculating in vain on 
their relation to ancient Jericho. It is probable that the first 
Jericho was here, and that the Jericho of the Gospels was 
near the spot where the mountain road we had traversed de¬ 
bouched into the plain. The so-called Jericho is modern, and 
may possibly mark the site of Gilgal. 

We struck across the plain to the Jordan. We pushed through 
a tangled wilderness of low trees, and passed Jericho, that capital 
of rascaldom, robbery, poverty, and vice, and soon began to pace 
over the bare flat of the Ghor. What a glorious plain that might 
be made, growing, as it could do, in full luxuriance the products 
of the tropics! The soil is excellent; the water at command 
abundant : yet all is a dreary waste. But could capital be applied 


















THE JORDAN BELOW JERICHO. 















































































THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF JERUSALEM. 


to distribute the springs of the Kelt, Ain es Sultan, and El-Duk 
over the soil; could a few Armstrong guns be placed in round 
towers to defend the fords of the Jordan, to sweep the plain, and 
stop the incursions of the Bedouin, there is no doubt the Ghor 
would again become a paradise. 

The sun was already getting hot, and the Jordan seemed to be 
farther and farther away. We passed in succession, and after 
considerable intervals, three steep beaches,, leading down from a 
higher to a lower level, and each marking a former shore of the 
river. These shores may have been occupied for a long period, 
but more probably only during inundations, and when the Jordan 
flowed at higher levels. It was not until we descended the fourth 
beach that we reached the narrow plain through which it now 
flows. There its muddy and rapid waters rushed in eddying 
circles like those of a glacier stream, between tangled brushwood 
of various kinds, and trees, and tall reeds that bent their feathered 
heads in the quiet air, there being no wind to shake them. On 
the other side, perpendicular banks of white clay, with the edge 
of a higher bank appearing beyond, hemmed the water in. It 
did not seem more than one hundred feet broad. Some of our 
party and the Arabs bathed in it. I deferred that duty, chiefly 
from fear of being swept off by the stream, until we reached the 
Dead Sea. The Arabs revealed a very simple toilette, consisting 
merely of a long shirt, and a cotton or camel’s hair dressing-gown. 

We lingered some time on the bank of the river, cutting 
walking-sticks for mementoes, and also some bulrush-heads—an 
innocent amusement verily, and affording a striking enough con¬ 
trast to boar-hunting and other “ manly sports.” One or two of 
our party had tin cases provided in which to carry home some of 
the water ; but I was, alas ! too prosaic to take the trouble, having 
no wish to baptize, any child in holier water than that which 
springs up unpolluted among our own beautiful hills. 

As we rode towards the Dead Sea, and turned away for ever 






EASTWARD. 


200 


from the Jordan, I began to recall all the grand events associated 
with the river and the plain through which it flowed. Somewhere 
beyond and above us was Pisgah,* from which that grand man, 
the Saint Paul of the old dispensation, saw revealed for the first 
time the vision of his life—the land on which he was not to tread 
until he appeared on it in glory along with the Messiah of whom 
he had testified. The Jordan was full of memories, dating from 
the famous day when the ark stayed its waters, and the armies of 
Israel defiled before it after their long wilderness journey into the 
Holy Land of Promise—Caleb and Joshua alone connecting them 
with Egypt—downwards through the times of Elijah and Elisha, 
Naaman the Syrian, and John the Baptist, until the Lord Himself 
was consecrated in its waters for the public work of his ministry. 
Behind us was Jericho, associated with the victories of Joshua, 
the school of the Prophets, the healing miracles of Jesus;—and 
holy Gilgal, also long the seat of worship before the Tabernacle 
was pitched at Shiloh, and the place where Samuel and Saul and 
David and the ancient Church had prayed, and offered sacrifices, 
and sung their songs of praise. 

How desolate and dreary is all this scene now ! It is the haunt 
of brigands, and the home of a few poor debased peasants. The 
great forests of palm-trees which filled the plain for miles together, 
with the fields of sugar-cane, have all disappeared, and tangled 
thickets of valueless trees and shrubs alone remain. The granaries 
of corn which could feed the armies of Israel, enabling them to 
dispense with the manna, have perished : while but a few patches 
of cultivation are left to testify of the former fertility. Desolation 

* It is difficult, if not impossible, to discover any point higher than another in 
the skyline of the ridge which runs parallel to the Jordan, and north of the Dead 
Sea. Mount Nebo cannot therefore be identified. But this famous point is 
believed to be the high ridge which rises a little to the east and south of where the 
Jordan enters the Dead Sea, and which, lying over against Jericho, must from its 
position command the whole of Palestine. 






REMAINS OF JERICHO. 



































THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF JERUSALEM. 


201 


everywhere, and the stones of emptiness ! The very sites of Jericho 
and Gilgal are uncertain, and wild beasts or wilder men roam 
where Holy Prophets taught, where the Baptist preached, and 
where the Son of God performed his miracles of love and power. 

When we reached the shore of the Dead Sea, we all gazed in 
silence on the scene before us. What w r ere our first impressions ? 
Putting aside the associations of God’s anger and righteous judg¬ 
ment which are irresistibly suggested by all we know of those 
degraded races who dwelt somewhere on its borders or on spots 
where its waters rest, the scene was decidedly pleasing. True, it 
is not picturesque. The want of life on this part of its waters 
makes it dull and uninteresting, without, however, giving it the 
dreary look of many a Highland loch—such, for example, as that 
darkest and most barren of all I have ever seen, Coruisk in Skye. 
Nor is the mountain range of its shores apparently “ bleak and 
blasted,” like the sides of a volcano, but, generally speaking, is 
clothed with what looks like herbage, though it may be but low 
shrubs; while several beautiful and luxuriant wadies debouch on 
its shores. And then there was a delicious breeze blowing over 
it, sending fresh-looking tiny waves to the shore ; and the water 
was so marvellously clear and transparent, and we were so hot and 
deliquescent, that a bathe was anticipated with peculiar pleasure. 
It is an error to suppose that there is actually no life of plant or 
animal possible within the influence of its so-called noxious 
vapours. Plants do grow on its border ; and further south, birds 
are seen not only flying over it but swimming or wading in its 
waters. No fish have as yet been discovered in it; and this no 
one who touches its waters will be surprised at, assuming that fish 
have tastes like men ! But one must draw upon fancy more than on 
what is seen by the eye to make the Dead Sea so very dreadful as 
it is generally supposed to be. 

We bathed of course, and the experiences gained thereby are 
such as its waters alone afford. Every one knows what a horrid 


D D 











202 


EASTWARD. 


taste it has. No mixture of vinegar, alum, and sulphur, or any 
similar compound which would fret the skin and pucker the tongue, 
can give any idea of it. One must taste the deceptive liquid, so 
clear and beautiful, yet so vile and nauseous, in order to appreciate 
its composition ; and must let his lips, cracked and blistered with 
the sun, and his face, punctured with mosquitoes and other insects, 
be touched by this limpid wash, before he can estimate its energy. 
Its buoyancy is also well known, but one must swim through its 
heavy waters to realise the novel sensation of being unable to sink. 
The first attempt to swim never fails to produce shouts of laughter, 
—a dangerous levity, as giving admission to the water by the lips. 
The moment we breast its waves, we are astonished to find our feet 
fly up to the surface, and all our old ideas of equilibrium vanish. 
The most comfortable attitude is either floating on the back, or 
sitting in the water with a gentle movement of the hands to 
balance our water-seat; and then the ease, quiet, and composure 
with which our object can be accomplished, inaugurates a new idea 
in aquatics. Some travellers tell us that they have dived, or at¬ 
tempted to dive into these depths. The very idea would have 
terrified me ! I felt uneasy once when losing connection with terra 
Anna, and had a vision of a depth of possibly 1300 feet, near if not 
beneath me. Might not the edge of the abyss be but a few yards 
off ? And the idea of hanging over such a precipice, with who 
knows what below, was enough to make one look to the pebbles at 
his feet for comfort. Besides, I did not see how anybody with 
only hands for paddles, and without the help of a screw, could ever 
force his way through those leaden depths. It may pain some 
solemn critics to know that we very frequently broke the silence 
of the Dead Sea by shouts of merriment. But the fact must 
nevertheless be confessed,—though we are in some quarters given 
to understand, that whatever coloured garments a clergyman may 
wear in Palestine, he is always to write as one who travels in 
gown and bands. We enjoyed our bath exceedingly, felt much 


















THE NORTH BAY OF THE SALT SEA, AT THE SOUTH END OF JORDAN.”—Joshua, xviii 19. 











































































































■V 












1 















































* 























THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF JERUSALEM. 203 


refreshed by it, and did not find the pungent effect of the water on 
the skin peculiarly disagreeable. 

We made no exploration of the shores. Our expedition had not 
an atom of science in it, here or elsewhere. We left such work, 
not without feelings of envy and admiration, to explorers like the 
Due de Luynes, who had started a day or two before, as we were 
told, in his steamer, and Mr. Tristram, who has since added a 
truly valuable and pleasing contribution to scientific books on 
Palestine.* 

We started now for Mar Saba. It was our original intention to 
have approached the Dead Sea from Mar Saba by the Ras-el- 
Feskah. But we were told that the district was rather disturbed, 
and that we might have some trouble in that route. This may 
have been an exaggeration, but our time was too limited to admit 
of unnecessary delays. There can be no doubt, however, that this 
is tJte point from which travellers should first behold the famous 
lake. 

In riding along its shore before ascending the hills, we were 
struck by the appearance of an island near its western end. I 
remarked how strange it was that no such island was noted in any 
map. “ It must be mirage,” we said. Yet surely no mirage could 
create an island so clear and well defined as that! But being on 
our guard against deception, we rejected the evidence of sense, 
and fell back on faith in the map. There was no island ; but had 
there been one it could not have been more distinct. 

The ride to Mar Saba was long and tedious. We were, I think, 
about eleven hours on horseback from the time we left Ain es 
Sultan until we reached the monastery. Travellers in the East 

* In the engraving, a narrow tongue is seen entering the Dead Sea to the right. 
My friend Mr. Reich ardt of the Church Missionary Society, a resident for some 
years in Jerusalem, told me that more than once he had visited this point, and 
had seen remains of ancient ruins upon it, which he was inclined to think 
belonged to a remote period. 












204 


EASTWARD. 


will smile at this. But I did not smile, except grimly. I never 
was exposed, except once in the far West, to such oppressive heat, 
and we had no shelter of any kind. But I had fortunately a 
noble horse, which ambled along with a brave unfaltering step. I 
wish ho could have known how much I pitied him, and how fully 
I appreciated the unselfish manner in which he did his work. 

The scenery was altogether different from anything I had ever 
seen in my life or ever expect to see again. It realised all that 
can be imagined of a dry and parched land. We did not meet a 
human being. The silence was broken only, as I rode alone 
ahead, by the beat of the horse’s hoofs and his strong breathing 
under the sweltering heat. A glare of light streamed from earth 
and sky. We crossed dry plains, and ascended along the narrow 
path which zigzags up and up to the summit of the ridge. Every¬ 
where desolation, as if the fire of heaven had scorched the rocks, 
and ten thousand furious torrents had denuded the valleys, and 
left great white mounds and peaks of clay and limestone, like a 
series of gigantic cones, along the hill-sides. I have no distinct 
ideas of the journey beyond impressions of heat, glare, and dreari¬ 
ness, of bare rocks, narrow paths, deep ravines, valleys bare and 
wild as might be seen in the depths of an ocean along which 
icebergs had ploughed their way, tossing down hills of debris, to 
be moulded into fantastic forms by the roaring tides or whirlpools. 
More definite pictures my memory does not retain. That one day 
of life in the wilderness quite satisfied my fancy. But my 
memory does retain with more distinct clearness the satisfaction 
which I experienced when about sunset we went pacing along the 
edge of the Kidron gorge, and knew that Mar Saba was near. 

The approach to this famous old place is along one of the most 
picturesque paths in Palestine, or indeed in any country. The 
Kidron, with the help no doubt of earthquakes, has cut for itself 
during long ages a tortuous course several hundred feet deep. 
The rocks which rise from its bed in sheer precipices are so close 




















CONVENT OF MAR SABA. 






































































THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF . JERUSALEM. 


at the top that a one-arched bridge could span them. This deep 
ravine winds along like a huge railway cutting until it reaches the 
Monastery. That wonderful building, the hospice of pilgrims 
during many centuries, had its origin with the hermits —tradition 
says to the number of 15,000—who once sought refuge from perse¬ 
cution in this place of solitude and defence. The precipices are 
full of caves. These were enlarged, and fashioned, by the aid of 
walls closing up apertures and connecting jutting strata, into 
something like houses, or cells rather, by the anchorites. One 
abode communicated with another, a hundred feet below or above 
it, by narrow paths and tortuous holes, such as a fox might creep 
through with caution ; and there they lived—God alone, who 
feeds the wild beasts of the desert, knows how!—on herbs and 
pure water (?), nourishing skeleton bodies containing queer minds, 
whose ideas belonged to a world of thought we know not of. And 
there they prayed, and starved themselves, and buried themselves, 
and held a sort of communion with each other, until one cannot 
conceive of them as being other than monomaniacs possessed of 
oddest thoughts of God and man—of the world present and of the 
world to come—thoughts which now, I doubt not, seem stranger 
to themselves than to any on earth who survive them. 

But how can I give an idea of the convent ? Well, imagine a 
cell scooped out between the ledges of those rocks, then several 
others near it, and then a cave enlarged into a chapel, and this 
chapel becoming the parish church of the wild glen, and being 
surrounded by other cells and houses built on this ledge of rock 
and others below on another ledge reached by stairs, and others on 
storey below storey, and so down the face of the precqhce, cells 
and chapels and houses being multiplied, until from the ridge 
above to the stream below a beehive has been formed, which is 
finally defended by high walls and two strong towers if you can 
fancy this hanging nest of bees and drones, you have an idea of 
Mar Saba. Its walls protect it from the incursions of the 





2o6 


EASTWARD. 


Bedouin. It is a haven of repose in the wilderness to every 
pilgrim. It can accommodate hundreds in its endless honey¬ 
combs ; and is the beau ideal of a monastery, such as one reads 
about in tales of the Crusades and of the middle ages. 

To dnter it the traveller requires a letter of introduction from 
the ecclesiastical superior of the monks at Jerusalem. This we 
had obtained. A basket to receive it was lowered from one of the 
high towers by a dot representing a monk. This form is always 
gone through, and only when the letter is read, and not till then, 
is the gate opened to pilgrim or traveller. The poor shrivelled, 
dried-up, and half-starved monks were very civil, giving us coffee 
and wine in a comfortable refectory. Those who can converse 
with them say that they are very stupid and ignorant. Yet the 
place seemed to be a very paradise for study, with its repose, wild 
scenery, solitude, and antiquity. We saw of course all the sights 
—such as the skulls of 10,000 martyrs. Oh, for the brain and 
eyes, for a few minutes only, of one of these, to feel as he felt, and 
to see as he saw ! The wish could not be gratified; and so the 
skulls taught us nothing which other skulls could not impart. 

We encamped outside the monastery. It was a glorious night. 
When all were asleep, I left the tent to enjoy it, and also, let me 
add, to get some water to drink. The moonlight, the cool air, the 
deep shadows of the rocks, the silent towers shining in the moon¬ 
light, and the dreams of the past, made the hour delightful. But 
a prowling jackall, fox, or wolf—for there are many of each in the 
neighbourhood—induced me to return to my tent, and to forget 
Mar Saba for a time in sleep. 

We had a short ride next day to Jerusalem up the Ividron 
Valley. This is beyond doubt the finest approach to the city, 
which from it has an elevation and citadel-look which is afforded 
by no other point of view ;—the wall and buildings of the Haram 
Area rising above the Valley of Jehoshaphat, as seen in the 
View of En-Roffel from the South. 















THE SOUTH OP PALESTINE. 





























































































THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF JERUSALEM. 207 


A DAY’S HIDE SOUTH FROM JERUSALEM. 

There is one remarkable peculiarity in the Bible, as a revelation 
of God’s will to man—or rather of the many books which make 
up the one which we call the Bible,—that it is a record of his¬ 
torical events, extending over thousands of years, all of which 
occurred in many different places, but situated within a very small 
territory. Accordingly there is hardly a hill or valley, stream or 
fountain, town or village in Palestine which has not been the 
home of some person, or the scene of some event known and 
familiar to the Church of Christ. Every spot is consecrated by 
holy associations. And so in journeying through the land, we 
almost every hour visit some sacred locality. Thus, for example, 
in one day’s ride south from Jerusalem, after leaving the city by 
the old Jewish tower at the gate of Jaffa, we cross the plain of 
Bephadim, pass close to the tomb of Bach el, visit Bethlehem, 
drink at the pools of Solomon, stand on the plain of Mamre and 
by the well of Abraham, wind among the vineyards of Eshcol, and 
end with Hebron. 

This was our day’s ride, and let me tell the reader something of 
what we saw in so brief a journey. 

As to the general aspect of the country, it is beyond doubt the 
least picturesque in Palestine, and, apart from associations, does 
not possess any attractive feature. The hills which cluster over 
this upland plateau, are like straw beehives, or rather, let me say, 
like those boys’ tops, which are made to spin by a string wound 
round them ,—peeries as they are called in Scotland,—but turned 
upside down, the grooves for the string representing the encircling 
ledges of the limestone strata, and the peg a ruined tower on the 
summit. Imagine numbers of such hills placed side by side, with 
a narrow deep hollow between them filled with soil, their declivities 
a series of bare shelves of grey rock,—the rough path worming 






2o8 


EASTWARD. 


its way round about, up and down, with here and there broader 
intervals of flat land, and here and there the hillsides covered with 
shrubs and dwarf oaks,—and you will have some idea of the nature 
of the country between Jerusalem and Hebron. In some places, 
as about Bethlehem, there are olive plantations, and signs of rapid 
improvement, with which my brother was much struck, as con¬ 
trasted with what he saw on his visit seven years ago. To me, 
the scene had a friendly and home look, for many parts of the 
stony road, with its break-down fences, reminded me of spots in 
a Highland parish, endeared by touching recollections of an early 
home; but the grander features of “the parish” could not be 
traced in Southern Palestine. Yet it is obvious, as has been 
remarked by every traveller, that an industrious population could 
very soon transform these barren hills into terraces rich with 
“corn and wine.” Were these limestone ledges once more pro¬ 
vided with walls, to prevent the soil being washed down into the 
valley by the rain floods, and were fresh soil carried up from the 
hollows, where it must lie fathoms deep, magnificent crops would 
very soon be produced. It is well known also how soon the 
moisture of the climate would be affected by the restoration of the 
orchards. And when we remember the small quantity of car¬ 
bonaceous food that is required to maintain life in such a climate 
as Palestine, it is obvious that a population larger than that of 
Scotland, living as the Easterns do, could be supported in “ The 
Land.” 

There was always one redeeming feature of the road, and that 
was “ the glory in the grass.” The flowers gave colour and life to 
the path wherever they could grow. We came upon a large land 
tortoise crawling among them, the only specimen we met with in 
Palestine. 

Rachel’s Tomb was to me very touching. It was just where it 
should have been :—“ They journeyed from Bethel, and there was 
but a little way to come to Ephrah. And Rachel died, and was 




















POOLS OF SOLOMON 





























































THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF JERUSALEM. 


209 


buried in the way to Ephrah, which is Bethlehem." That place 
of burial is an undying witness to the oneness of our human 
hearts and of our domestic sorrows from the beginning of the 
world. It is this felt unity of our race in soul and spirit, in spite 
of some differences in the body, whether it be in the shape of the 



Rachel’s Tomb. 


foot or of the skull, which strengthens our faith in the possibility 
of eternal fellowship among all kindreds and nations and tongues. 
To Rachel, with her dying breath naming her boy “ the child of 
sorrow,” every parent’s heart will respond through all time. 

We passed Bethlehem, but did not visit it until our return from 
Hebron. The pools of Solomon,* of which the picture will give 
a better idea than any verbal description could do, are interesting 
as being unquestionably grand old “ waterworks,” worthy of a 
highly civilised age, and such as all the Turks put together would 

* These pools are three in number. The largest is 580 feet in length and 236 
feet in breadth. The smallest is 380 feet by 207 feet. The depth from 25 to 50 
feet. 


] ■: e 

























210 


EASTWARD. 


never think of designing or executing nowadays. And the water 
is not sui*passed by that of the great pool (Loch Katrine) which 
supplies Glasgow. The road during a part of the way is alongside 
the clay pipe which conveys the water to Bethlehem, as it did 
formerly to Jerusalem ; and where there happens to be a break 
the fresh clear stream is seen gushing along as it did before the 
“ works ” were repaired by Pontius Pilate. 

Below the Pools is the Valley of Urtas, which, being watered by 
them and other springs, looks like an emerald green river, of about 
two miles in length, and from 10 to 300 yards in breadth, flowing 
between high banks of barren limestone hills, and winding round 
their jutting promontories. Here were once the Gardens of Solo¬ 
mon, and no doubt these hills, now so bare, were once clothed with 
the trees and plants about which he “ spake.” It was probably 
with reference to his labours in this spot that he said :—“ I made 
me great works; I builded me houses; I planted me vineyards ; I 
made me gardens and orchards, and I planted trees in them of all 
kind of fruit: I made me pools of water, to water therewith the 
wood that bringeth forth trees.” And here an attempt is being 
made to introduce model gardens, where converted Jews may sup¬ 
port themselves by their own industry, instead of trusting to the 
charity which they are necessarily thrown upon when “ put out of 
the synagogue.” In this enterprise my much respected friend 

Major C-took a lively interest, as he does in all that is good, 

and became one of the proprietors, as did also Lady Dufferin and 
His Boyal Highness Prince Alfred. We had coffee and conver¬ 
sation at Bethlehem with the present superintendent of these 
gardens, old Mr. Meshallum, who appears to be a sincere good man. 
It is difficult to determine how far the benevolent experiment will 
succeed. It is not in a hopeful condition at present. 

About two miles from Hebron we turned off to the left, to visit 
the ruins of an old church built by Constantine round the stum]) 
of a terebinth tree, which, according to tradition, was Abraham’s 



















THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF JERUSALEM. 


21 I 


oak, and consequently marked the spot where he pitched his tent 
on the plain of Mamre, or “ of the oak.” The old stump had 
become an object of superstition, and attracted crowds, so the 
Emperor Constantine, to counteract this, and to turn the spot to 
good account, built a great Basilica around it. We found several 
feet of the walls of the church remaining, and we could easily trace 
the whole. Three tiers of stone remain at one side, some of the 
stones being upwards of 14 feet in length. “ If Abram,” remarked 
one of the party, “ had his tent near the oak, depend upon it he 



The Tree pointed out as Abraham’s Oak. 


had a well also. Let us get inside the ruins and search.” There 
we found—as no doubt other travellers have done, when they 
sought for it—a deep well, encased with stone, and having its edges 
deeply cut by the ropes which were wont to hoist the water- 
buckets or skins. I have not the slightest doubt that this was the 
true Mamre, and that it was close to this well that the wondrous 



























2 12 


EASTWARD. 


interview between Abraham and those sent to destroy Sodom and 
Gomorrah, recorded in Genesis, took place. The scenery of the 
wady is dull and uninteresting in the extreme. But such an 
event as this sheds around it much of that holy light which more 
or less'invests all Palestine. From the lower hills to the east, the 
smoke from the doomed cities could be easily seen, although the 
Dead Sea itself lies too low to be visible. 

Hebron is entered by a road which winds between the walls 
that enclose the vineyards and orchards of Eshcol, the grapes of 
which are still famous.* It is snugly nestled amidst bare, tame, 
limestone hills, with numerous olive groves clothing their lower 
spurs and the valleys between them. There is no “ hotel ” in the 
city, but travellers who do not bring their tents can be accom¬ 
modated at the old Lazaretto, or, as we were, in a private dwelling. 
The houses are poverty stricken. The Jewish inhabitants wear 
dressing-gowns with girdles, and sugar-loaf hats, curl their hair in 
tiny ringlets, and have soft white faces, giving one the impression 
of great effeminacy. Our host was a Jew. His house was situated 
and arranged in a way which at once suggested the idea of danger, 
of liability to attack, and of the necessity of providing for defence. 
We first passed from the street by what we call in Scotland a narrow 
close, which one broad-shouldered man might almost have filled up 
with his own person ; then along narrow tortuous windings, which 
could be easily defended by a few against many. Three or four 
steps led up to the narrow door of the house, which was situated in 


* I have teen informed by one who had, he said, made the experiment, that 
even now the best way of carrying a large cluster of the grapes of Eshcol is over a 
long pole, as was done by the “ spies,”—not on account of their weight, but from 
the long tendrils on which they grow giving a cluster a greater length than is 
found in the same number of grapes grown elsewhere. As to the wine of Hebron 
and Bethlehem—of which we had supplies—not being intoxicating, that is absurd. 
If any one disposed to make the experiment can overcome the difficulty of quality, 
I have no doubt that a sufficient quantity will produce the same effect as other 
fermented liquors. 




























PANORAMIC VIEW OF HERRON FROM THE SOUTH-WEST, 







































































THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF JERUSALEM. 


213 


the deep recesses of alleys and back courts. The entrance-hall was 
a sleeping apartment with divans on each side ; from it a second 
series of steps and another narrow door led to the kitchen. From 
this a stair ascended to the flat roof. O 11 the left, a few steps led 
from the kitchen to a small room, round which we found our 
couches spread. The house thus possessed a succession of strong¬ 
holds before the roof was reached, which was itself a citadel. The 
windows of our room had frames and shutters, but no glass, which 
afforded us at least ample ventilation. We provided of course 
our own food. The night was tolerably cool, and so, in despite of 
the bowlings of jackalls without, and the attacks of insects common 
to Jew and Gentile within, we slept, as usual, profoundly. 

There is certainly no town in Palestine which is so associated 
with early patriarchal history as Hebron. It has other associations 
no doubt, stirring and curious enough. For example, those con¬ 
nected with its early inhabitants, the strange race of giants who 
struck terror into the minds of the unbelieving spies ; with those 
men of faith, Caleb and Joshua ; and with David,* who reigned 
here for seven years, during which he probably composed some of 
his immortal Psalms. But still the memories of the patriarchs 
predominate, as this was at once their home, if home they had 
anywhere, and their place of burial. 

The oak, or terebinth tree, which is now pointed out as Abra¬ 
ham’s oak, is indeed a noble tree, twenty-four feet in circumference, 
with stately branches sweeping ninety feet round its stem. But it 
was planted many a century after the patriarchs were gathered to 
their fathers. 

The one spot connected with these ancient fathers which is un¬ 
questionably authentic is the cave of Machpelah, now covered by 
the famous mosque. The Prince of Wales, accompanied by Dean 

* The only memento here of David is the great pool—-130 feet square by 50 deep 
.—where he hung the assassins of Ishbosheth (2 Sam. iv. 4—12). There is another 
pool as ancient, but not so large. 
















214 


EASTWARD. 


Stanley and other members of his suite, were the first Christian 
travellers who were permitted to enter it for centuries. Since 
their visit, Mr. Fergusson has been allowed ready admission ; and 
it is soon likely to be as accessible as the Holy Mosques of Jeru¬ 
salem dr Damascus, which until but as yesterday were also closed 
against all “ infidels.” 

Both Dr. Stanley and Mr. Fergusson have given full and in¬ 
teresting details of the interior of this hitherto mysterious building. 
To their accounts I must refer my readers. I may state, however, 
for the information of those who have not access to their volumes, 
that there are no tombs to be seen in the mosque, but cenotaphs, 
or so-called tombs, on its floor, each a sort of monument to the 
famous patriarchs. But the cave itself in which their mummies are 
laid is beneath the floor of the mosque, and, so far as is yet known, 
has no entrance except by a small hole in the floor, which opens 
into darkness. If there is another entrance, it has not been 
revealed by the Mohammedans even to the Prince of Wales. In 
that mysterious cave no doubt Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob lie. 
What a spot of matchless interest! There is no authentic tomb 
on earth like it. Nearly 4000 years ago, when earth was young 
and history just beginning, here w T ere buried persons with whose 
lives and characters we are still familiar, whose names God has 
deigned to associate with his own, as the “ God of Abraham, and 
Isaac, and Jacob and whom Jesus has consecrated as guests at 
the great marriage supper of the Lamb. It is strange indeed for a 
Christian to be on the spot where that one lies in whose seed all 
the families of earth have been blessed, and who is “ the father of 
all who believe ! ” 

This is the only spot on earth which attracts to it all who pos¬ 
sess the one creed, “ I believe in God.” The “ Holy Sepulchre ” 
in Jerusalem separates Moslem, Jew, and Christian : here they 
assemble together. The Moslem guards this place as dear and 
holy. The Jew from every land draws near to it with reverence 















PANORAMIC VIEW OF HEBRON AND THE PLAIN OF MAMRE FROM THE SOUTH-EAST, 



































































































































































































THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF JERUSALEM. 


215 


and love, and his kisses have left an impress on its stones. Chris¬ 
tians of every kindred, and tongue, and creed, visit the spot with 
a reverence equally affectionate. And who lies here ? A great 
king or conqueror ? a man famous for his genius or his learning ? 
No ; but an old shepherd who pitched his tent 4000 years ago 
among these hills, a stranger and a pilgrim in the land, and who 
was known only as el-Khidil, “ The Friend.” By that blessed 
name, Abram was known while he lived ; by that name he is 
remembered where he lies buried ; and by that name the city is 
called after him. And it is when all men through faith become 
with him Friends of God, that all shall be blessed along with 
“ faithful Abraham.” Praise be to God for such an immortality 
as this, whether possessed by us on earth or in heaven, through 
faith and love in Christ towards God, whose glory may be concealed 
from the wise and prudent, but is revealed to babes! 

My space compels me to stop. I must delay till another chapter 
our visit to Bethlehem, where He was born in the flesh who was 
yet before Abraham, whose day Abraham saw afar off and was 
glad, and in whom “ the promise ” was fulfilled to Abraham’s 
spiritual seed, more numerous verily than the stars of heaven ! 

















IX. 


BETHLEHEM TO SAMARIA. 

. « 

Of all the places in Southern Palestine associated with Scrip¬ 
ture History, Bethlehem is on the whole the most picturesque. 
The three convents attached to the Church of the Nativity, which 
crown the summit and the ridge on which the village is built, 
wear the massive and dignified look of an old mediaeval fortress. 
The terraces, which, like gigantic stairs, descend to the lower 
valleys and the small alluvial plains and cornfields, have a fine 
bold sweep, and are rich in olives and fruit trees, the shade and 
verdure of which relieve the eye from the dazzling glare of the 
white limestone rocks and soil. The hills around are higher, and 
more varied than those which border the upper plateau, the cone 
of Jebel Fureidis breaking their otherwise tame outline, and the 
mountain ridge of Moab rising with its noble wall against the 
eastern horizon. 

The “ sacred localities ” of Bethlehem are all seen under one 
roof. One can here pace along the oldest existing Christian 
church in the world. It was repaired by King Edward IV. of 
England; Baldwin was crowned in it; and it was built centuries 
before by the mother of the first Christian emperor. It is a noble 
structure, though it has but scanty ecclesiastical furnishings. In 
spite, therefore, of its roof, made from the cedars of Lebanon, and 
its grand rows of marble pillars, it looks cold, bare, and uncared 
for. It is possessed in common by the Greeks, Latins, and Ar¬ 
menians, whose chapels occupy the choir and transepts only, and 
whose respective convents, like competing places of business, are 





















BETHLEHEM, WITH THE CHURCH OF THE NATIVITY AND CONVENTS, FROM THE NORTH. 





























































































































































































































































































































































BETHLEHEM TO SAMARIA. 


217 


attached to its walls. The decayed state of its unoccupied nave 
tempts one to ask whether catholic love really calls forth the same 
amount of self-sacrifice for the building and repair of churches, not 
to speak of other “ religious ” works, as sectarian zeal does. 

Beneath this old church, and reached by a number of steps cut 
out of the living rock, is the cave of the Nativity. Here, sur¬ 
rounded by the usual amount of tinsel and tawdry ornament, 
lamps, altars, and incense, is a hollow recess, in which it is alleged 
the Saviour was born. It is possible that this tradition, which 
can unquestionably be traced to a very early period, probably the 
second century, is authentic. The fact of cattle being kept in 
caves or grottoes, affording easy access and excellent shelter, is 
sufficiently common even now in Palestine, to warrant us in 
admitting that this cave may have been used as a stable.* But 
in spite of all probabilities in its favour, I could not associate the 
Incarnation with what the eye saw here. The spectacle did not 
help my faith, or even harmonise with it, as did those scenes in 
nature, associated with the life of Jesus, which the jniest has not 
yet attempted to improve. Bethlehem itself—its lovely hills, its 
very air, wdth the blue sky over all, impressed me infinitely 
more. 

* A writer, in The Christian Witness of last year, adduces some plausible reasons 
against the almost universally received opinion that the visit of the Magi was 
made to Bethlehem ; and in favour of its being to Nazareth. It appears from 
Luke’s narrative, that the Holy Family went from Jerusalem to Nazareth imme¬ 
diately after the presentation in the temple, or forty days after the birth of the 
child (Luke ii. 22—39). And Matthew informs us that immediately after the visit 
of the Magi they went to Egypt (Matt. ii. 14). It is true that Herod directed the 
Magi to go to Bethlehem, and that they probably left Jerusalem with that inten¬ 
tion, but whether the house which the star led them to was in Nazareth or Beth¬ 
lehem is not specified. The time required by Herod to hear of the birth of the 
child ; to call the council of learned doctors to consult as to the place of His birth ; 
to inquire diligently of the Magi as to the star; and then to order and complete 
the massacre, would seem to demand more time than forty days. The slaying of 
children whose maximum age was two years, would strengthen the idea that some 
time had elapsed ere Herod made up his mind to perpetrate this horrible coup 
d'etat. 


* 


F F 












2l8 


EASTWARD. 


Close to the sacred cave is an historical spot of unquestioned 
authenticity. It is the small cell where Jerome lived and died, 
fourteen centuries ago, and where he composed the Vulgate, and 
wrote treatises and letters enough to compete, in number, with 
those o'f John Calvin, or any other of those marvellous men who 
managed to attend to the affairs of Christendom, and at the same 
time to write whole libraries. The places in which such men 
lived give life to history. Their “ local habitation ” restores 
their personality, and gives substance to what might otherwise 
become a mere name. I know not what Jerome would think of 
many of our modern controversies, in which his authority is 
claimed by each of the contending parties ; but it is a comfort 
to believe that when he lived he must have had fellowship 
with all who like himself delighted to realise the presence 
of Jesus, and to worship Him as God manifest in the flesh. 
And how much more must this be the case since he has gone 
to glory. 

But it is not, of course, what one sees in Bethlehem which 
imparts to it such overwhelming interest. It is the one fact of all 
facts, the secret of the world’s existence and of its whole history,—• 
the Incarnation. Other events indeed are necessarily suggested 
while sitting under the shade of its old olives, gazing in silent 
meditation on the surrounding landscape. From these mountains 
of Moab came Ruth and Naomi. One of those fields stretc hin g 
like a green landing-place at the foot of the broad stairs of 
cultivated terraces, was the scene of that exquisite idyll of Ruth 
gleaning “ amidst the alien corn,” which sanctifies common life, 
shedding a glory over every field of reapers, like that which rests 
over the lilies of the field, and is greater far than any which 
Solomon ever knew. To those far-off hills, too, David sent his 
wives for safety, just as a Highland chief in similar circumstances 
would have sent his wife in the days of the clans, to relations “ far 
removed” it might be, yet strong in the ties of blood. David 



















BETHLEHEM TO SAMARIA. 


himself, first as the shepherd hoy, and then as the brave chief 
seemed again 

“ To walk in glory and in joy, 

Following his sheep along the mountain side,” 

himself guided by the Lord his Shepherd. And it must have 
been the water of that old well, which still sends forth its living 
stream, that David longed to drink of. But these and other 
memories are lost in the story of David’s Son, born in Bethlehem, 
“ the least of the thousands of Judah.” 

The imagination gets bewildered in attempting to realise the 
facts connected with the Nativity. They fill the heavens above 
and the earth below with their glory. We instinctively look up 
to the sky and then to the hills, and dream of the night when the 
Angel of the Lord announced the birth of Jesus to the humble 
shepherds somewhere hereabout. On that ridge? on those knolls? 
in that mountain recess ? In vain we ask ! What we do know 
is, that as the Aurora flashes across the midnight of the North, so 
there once gleamed a heavenly host athwart this quiet sky, and 
filled it with the Gloria in excelsis which gives the only true 
promise of the world’s redemption from evil, and restoration to 
God’s immortal kingdom of righteousness, peace, and joy. We 
can never weary of the simple and sublime narrative :—“ And 
there were in the same country shepherds abiding .in the field, 
keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of 
the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round 
about them : and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto 
them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, 
which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the 
city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall 
be a sign unto you; ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling- 
clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the 
angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, 
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good-will toward 






EASTWARD. 


220 


men. And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from 
them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let ns now 
go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, 
which the Lord hath made known to us.” 

As >ve read of these things we ask with surprise, Did they 
actually happen here ? Is this Bethlehem ? 

Such questionings lead me to notice a thought which constantly 
forced itself upon me in Palestine. It was as to the altered 
impression which I would receive from the landscape through my 
rejection of the supernatural facts associated with it in Scripture 
History. Palestine, as the reader knows, is full of historical 
memories, which are not confined to any one spot, as for example 
to the capital, nor to one or two well-known or more favoured 
localities, but are scattered all over the land. Almost every town 
and village, every hill and stream, recall some Bible narrative of 
persons or events. And a great portion of these, to us the most 
momentous and important, belongs to the region of the super¬ 
natural, or the miraculous. For verily Heaven lay about the 
infancy of the Church of God, which was cradled and nursed in 
this Holy Land. Angels ministered to its wants, guided its totter¬ 
ing steps, defended it from every foe, revealed to it visions of its 
future glory, and sang to it songs of praise. Everywhere its 
tutors and governors had power given them to do works of wonder 
in the cause of truth and mercy. 

Take away this supernatural element from Palestine, reduce 
everything to the mere patent facts of ordinary life, and it seems 
to me like separating the glory of the illumined atmosphere and 
sky from the earth ; or like eliminating from man all that belongs 
to him as an immortal being made after God’s image, with all the 
manifold mysteries which that creation involves, and reducing 
him, by the aid of chemistry, into the carbon, silica, and other 
constituents which compose his material being, so that he may be 
seen and handled, and his existence reconciled to science. 





BETHLEHEM TO SAMARIA. 


When I was in Greece, and gazed on that bright and glorious 
land from the Acropolis of Athens, I felt there was no mingling of 
the natural with the supernatural. That land of philosophy and 
poesy had its myths, no doubt, and its beautiful romantic dreams. 
Its rivers, valleys, and mountains are resplendent with the 
creations of the mind. These, like clouds illumined by the sun, 
brood over spots made for ever famous by heroic deeds, or by 
the teaching of great thinkers. But there is no difficulty felt in 
separating the prose from the poetry. This can be done without 
violence to the religious convictions of the present, or to the 
traditions of the past. The great men of old who created the 
myths, or transferred them from the religious faith of the peasant 
into the poems or dramas which make them immortal, would be 
the first to smile at our credulity if we seriously received their 
creations as facts. And the severest historical criticism would 
only bring our convictions into harmony with theirs. But it is 
different with Palestine. Its history and the supernatural are 
indissolubly bound together. He who would separate them, and 
deny the one as an element of the other, would be himself denied 
by prophets, apostles, yea by Jesus Christ. Greece without the 
supernatural remains the same to every man of learning and taste. 
Palestine without the supernatural fades into the light of 
common day, and from being a holy land, becomes a body of death 
to the whole Christian Church, 

Another thought which forced itself upon me is the remarkable 
frequency with which the attempt to separate the natural from 
the supernatural would have to be made in Palestine. It would 
have to be repeated by the traveller almost every hour, and in 
every spot. He would have, for example, to strip Bethlehem of 
the whole story of the angels with their message and song. In 
Bethany it would be the same. The raising of Lazarus and the 
ascension of Christ would have to vanish beneath the rational 
magic wand. And as for Jerusalem, he would have to construct 




222 


EASTWARD. 


anew its whole history, including all the events in the life of Jesus 
—a task requiring at least a strong imagination and much patience. 
And so it would be throughout the whole land until he reached 
Tiberias, where the process would have to be repeated on its waves, 
its shores, and in every ruined town which once rang with the 
praises of the great Healer and Restorer. Well, suppose all this 
done, and the supernatural wholly swept from off the landscape, is 
there nothing miraculous left behind ? Is there no wonder in “ a 
holy land” being so full of falsehoods, myths, and superstitions, 
albeit they are the creation of simple loving hearts who did not 
intend to deceive, but had not sufficient culture to see that they 
were false ? Is there no wonder in the fact that the holiest love 
of truth, and the greatest horror of falsehood in every shape and 
form, have been the invariable characteristics of those who believed 
in the Bible, and in the Christ of the Gospels, with all He is 
recorded to have said and done ? Is there no wonder in men from 
all lands—some of them occupying “ the foremost ranks of time” 

•—coming to worship in “this mountain,” still believing those 
supernatural events, and blessing God for them ? Is there no 
wonder in the fact that miraculous events ended with Christ and 
His Apostles, and that since their day a debased, untruthful, 
and superstitious people have given birth to no marvels of any 
kind ? 

It is Yinet, I think, who has somewhere remarked that Chris¬ 
tianity has a marvellous resurrective life, for though often slain 
and buried by its enemies, it ever rises again to live in human 
hearts. A remarkable contrast is suggested at Bethlehem between 
the strength of man and “the weakness of God.” The first attempt 
to destroy Christianity in the person of Christ was here made by 
King Herod, surnamed the Great. He was the type of irresistible 
human power, while the young child was the type of unresisting 
human weakness. But now Herod lies on the summit of Jebel 
Fureidis, or the Frank Mountain, which, like a huge monumental 




BETHLEHEM TO SAMARIA. 


tumulus, towers above Bethlehem as if raised “ in memoriam ” of 
the massacre of the innocents ; while the child!—but who can 
describe what He has since become on earth and in heaven ! Thus 
will all the enemies of Christ be one day put under His feet.* 

Before bidding farewell to Bethlehem and its sacred associations, 
I may describe a commonplace incident which befel us on our way 
from Hebron, as illustrative of the supposed danger to which 
travellers are subjected. 

Mr. M-, one of Colonel M-’s party, was riding along with 

me. We were far in the rear of the cavalcade, which, by the way, 
included our brave guard. Having abundance of time, we were 
leisurely chatting, and our steeds as leisurely walking, when all at 
once we saw six Arab-looking horsemen galloping towards us. 
They suddenly dismounted, and forthwith began to load their long 
guns. “ Hollo ! what does this mean ! ” one of us exclaimed. 
Various suggestions were hazarded, the most unpleasant, but most 
probable, being that an attack was about to be made on our 
baggage, which was at this time behind us, and out of sight. 
At once the unknown horsemen charged right down upon us, we 
of course disdaining to show any signs of fear or flight, but gal¬ 
lantly preparing our pistols, notwithstanding our being minus both 
powder and shot. Two of the troopers dismounted and demanded 
backsheesh from me. I replied by shaking my head, and begging 
with a look of poverty, and an outstretched hand, the same favour 
from them. Their next demand was for powder— barud, I think 

* A friend has directed my attention to the following allusion by Macrobius (a 
writer of the early part of the fifth century) to Herod :— 

“ Cum audisset inter pueros quos in Syria Herodes Rex Judaeorum intra bima- 
tum jussit interfeci filium quoque ejus occisum : ait melius est Herodis porcum 
esse quam filium.” 

“ When Augustus had heard that among the children whom Herod king of the 
Jews ordered to be put to death in Syria, under two years old, his own son too had 
perished, he said, ‘ It is better to be Herod’s pig than his so tl.’ Saturnalia, lib. ii. 
chap. iv. 








224 EASTWARD. 


was tlie word. In the meantime I had wound up my musical 
snuff-box, and invited the two highwaymen, as I understood them, 
to receive more peaceful ideas by permitting me to lay the box on 
their heads. The usual results followed. There were the delighted 
expressions of “ Tayeeb ! tayeeb ! ”—with the invariable exhibition 
of beautiful ivory teeth, framed in a most pleasant smile. And 
so we were allowed to depart in peace. We afterwards learned 
that the fierce robbers who thus spared our purses and our lives 
were—a detachment of Turkish police ! So much for the fears 
and hairbreadth escapes of travellers. 

We returned from Bethlehem to Jerusalem. Is not that one 
day’s ride from Hebron to Jerusalem, via Bethlehem, enough to 
reward any traveller from England to Palestine, even though he 
should not take another ? And yet it is cpffte possible to enjoy it, 
“ wind and weather permitting,” in a fortnight after leaving 
London! * 

One other night in Jerusalem, and then we resumed our tent- 
life, journeying northward. 

Leaving Jerusalem by the Damascus Gate, we soon reached the 
low ridge of Scopus, whence we turned our horses’ heads to take 
a last view of “ the city of the Great King.” We gazed on the 
now familiar domes and minarets, the gentle swell of the Mount 
of Olives rising above them like the roll of a great sea wave. We 
felt as if taking our last look of a dead parent. It was difficult to 
tear ourselves away, feeling that we should, in all probability, see 
the beloved object no more. Yet there came undefined and im¬ 
palpable thoughts of a resurrection—gleams of a light beyond the 

grave—dim visions of a new Jerusalem better than the old__ 

thoughts, not shaped into beliefs, of our living to see the land and 
its city yet connected with some evolution in the future history of 

* That is by taking the Italian and Adriatic route, and finding a steamer for 
Jaffa, on arriving at Alexandria. 












BETHEL, FROM THE SOUTH. 







































































































































BETHLEHEM TO SAMARIA. 


225 


the Church. But we had to depart. So at last, with one intense 
gaze which I doubt not ended in the case of us all in heartfelt 
thanksgiving for having been permitted to see the city whose 
“ very dust is dear,” we resumed our journey, to visit other scenes 
linked with the holy men of old and the holy Son of God. 

The road to the north has little interest for the eye, until vve 
get into the mountains of Ephraim. It runs along the flat water¬ 
shed of the country, the valleys descending from it towards the 
Jordan on the east, and the maritime plain on the west. We 
passed Neby Samwil on the left, and Gibeah of Saul (Tel-el-ful) 
on the right. We ascended this latter hill, or rather huge mound, 
which has another mound so near that a conversation can be held 
between persons on their respective summits,—both hills no doubt 
having been included in the old city. We thought of the terrible 
story of the wayfarer who, journeying to Mount Ephraim, sought 
refuge here for the night—a story which reveals the night-side of 
social life during an anarchical period of Jewish history, and is 
one of those inarticulate cries out of the depths for a king and 
deliverer from evil. We thought of Samuel and Saul, of David 
and Jonathan, with the events which took place here and in the 
neighbouring valleys, including the battle of Michmash, three 
miles off, whose din reached the anxious watchers on this citadel. 

We passed on to Bireh, or Beeroth, where, according to tradi¬ 
tion, the parents of Jesus first missed their boy, as the small 
caravan gathered together for rest. They had up till then assumed 
that he was “ among kinsfolk and acquaintance,”—a fact which 
reveals how his early social life was like our own. We also noticed 
a peaked hill with a village on its summit, towering above a low 
range. It is the Orphah, or Ephraim, to which Jesus retired after 
the raising of Lazarus. 

We reached Bethel, but in that illustrious spot saw nothing with 
the outer eye save stones of confusion and emptiness. Huge lime¬ 
stone blocks washed white with the rains, but with no verdure 


G G 














226 EASTWARD. 


among them, cover the hill-tops. Yet here, probably where the 
wretched cluster of huts now stands, with the ruined tower rising 
among them, was once the Sanctuary of God. Here the Patriarchs 
erected the earliest altars dedicated to His worship. Here, too, 
was the seat of old idolatries, where the “ golden calves ” of Egypt 
were set up in opposition to the temple of Jerusalem, whose 
summit could have been seen from the spot, as the dome of the 
Mosque of Omar can be now. Here was that memorable vision 
afforded to Jacob, which has been realised by the union of earth 
and heaven, men and angels, in the person of the Son of Man and 
the Son of God. I felt in no way disappointed with the present 
commonplace look of the scene of these glorious spiritual revela¬ 
tions. To me it shed a light of hope and joy into the abodes of 
poverty, glorifying humanity in the commonest outward forms, and 
as existing in the commonest places. “The stones of Venice” 
never inspired me with such hope for man as the stones of Bethel 
which had formed the pillow of Jacob. 

Soon after passing Bethel we entered the mountains of Ephraim. 
The whole character of the landscape suddenly changed here. For 
the first time on our journey there was scenery worth looking at 
for its own sake. The hills assumed a bolder and more command¬ 
ing form. There was more elbow room, so to speak, among them. 
There were high peaked hills, crowned with towers or ruins, and 
extensive groves of figs and olives; while a range of precipitous 
rocks with excavated tombs ran along a portion of our route. The 
road, however, was the worst we had yet seen, if indeed the bed 
of a torrent can be called a road. It was most difficult for our 
horses to keep their footing, as they cautiously felt their way 
through loose stones, and over muddy holes concealed by the 
stream. The pass through Avhich Ave rode was one which few 
armies Avould attempt to force, if bravely defended. Exterminated 
to the north in a green flat spot beneath a Ioav Avail of rocks, called, 
Avitli great propriety, “the Robbers’ Fountain,” or Ain-el-Hama- 





BETHLEHEM TO SAMARIA. 


227 


reyeh, and which all travellers avoid after sunset. One often 
wonders where the insolent, club-carrying, and backsheesh-asking 
rascals come from. For it is comparatively rare to see any villages 
along the road, which apparently leads for miles through solitude. 
But just as flies or vultures suddenly gather to any spot where 
food awaits them, so these Fellaheen, with dirty shirts, brown 
faces, keen eyes, white teeth, bare legs, and big shoes, creep from 
behind rocks, or descend hill paths, armed with club or gun, as if 
they lived in dens or caves of the earth. Needy scoundrels with 
bad consciences and good clubs or long guns can do much mischief 
during a single night, in districts innocent of both magistrates and 
detectives. So we left the Bobbers’ Fountain with that prudence 
which is at once moral and agreeable, and reached our tents on 
the high grounds of Sinjil, after an easy and pleasant ride of 
seven or eight hours. The traveller, provided his horse be good, 
and himself able and willing, can reach Nablous in one day from 
Jerusalem. But wishing to take things quietly, and not as if 
carrying the mail, we broke the journey by encamping here. 

As usual after ablutions and dinner, we rejoiced in the stars, for 
the weather was splendid ; and we put a stop for a time to the 
incessant jabber of the Arabs, who came in crowds from the 
neighbouring village, by indulging them with music from our 
inexhaustible box, instead of backsheesh from our far from in¬ 
exhaustible purse. 

Early next day, we sighted Shiloh to the east, but did not ride 
up to it, though it was only half an hour off our route. There is 
nothing to see at this famous spot, although one is glad to pause 
and gaze upon it from the distance. Its situation is well pro¬ 
nounced as seen from the path we travelled. It is a round low 
hill at the end of a plain, and leaning on a more elevated range 
above it. There are no remains at it of any importance. All 
around is grey, bare, and barren. But it is interesting to see the 
place where that man of highest and purest character, Samuel, 



















228 


EASTWARD. 


ministered as a boy. His was a childhood which has been blessed 
to the comfort of many a parent, as revealing both God’s father¬ 
hood as a teacher of babes, and the meek obedience which even a 
simple-hearted child may possess, and which (thank God) may 
be kept until old age! Here too ministered old Eli who, not¬ 
withstanding his piety and possession of a high mood of mind 
which made him tremble for the ark of God, is an everlasting 
warning to parents, against the soft-hearted selfishness which will 
not restrain a self-indulgent family. During many a long year the 
tribes Avent up to the ark at Shiloh. But now all is silence, deso¬ 
lation, and barrenness, with nothing to be seen, yet much to be 
learned and remembered. 

As we advanced on our journey, the valleys expanded into 
broader plains, and the paths became better ; the whole country of 
Ephraim evidencing a fertility and agricultural richness which 
cannot be found in the rocky fastnesses of Palestine. One saw, 
from the nature of the country, how there must have been a strong 
temptation on the part of Ephraim to lean on his own arm of flesh, 
and to say, “ I am rich and increased in goods and have need of 
nothing and also to seek to make himself the head of the nation, 
and to prefer Samaria to Jerusalem,—just as England would not 
brook to have Edinburgh for its capital. 

The richest and most magnificent expanse of cultivated soil we 
saw on this journey was the plain of Mukhra, which extends for 
about seven miles. It suddenly burst on our view from the summit 
of a high ridge over which our road passed. The promontories of 
Gerizim and Ebal plunge their rocky headlands into it from the 
west, while a range of low hills separate it from the descent towards 
the Jordan on the east. We skirted this plain, until we sat down 
under the shadow of Gerizim, to read and to meditate, as pilgrims 
have done for centuries, at Jacob’s Well. 

There has never been a doubt entertained by the most sceptical 
or critical traveller regarding the authenticity of this well. Beyond 














BETHLEHEM TO SAMARIA. 


229 


all question it is the one at which our Saviour rested as He jour¬ 
neyed along the route which travellers generally follow from Jeru¬ 
salem to Galilee. Every feature of the landscape starts into life 
as we read the narrative of His memorable conversation with the 
woman of Samaria:—the plain of cornfields which were then as 
now whitening to the harvest; the mountain rising above, on which 
the Samaritan temple was built; the neighbouring town of She- 
chem; the Samaritans worshipping, as they still do, towards “this 
mountain,” and there only;—all are evidence of its truth, apart 
from the common and unbroken tradition. 

- The well is not what we understand by that name. It is not a 
spring of water bubbling up from the earth, nor is it reached by an 
excavation. It is a shaft cut in the living rock, about nine feet in 
diameter, and now upwards of seventy feet deep. As an immense 
quantity of rubbish has fallen into it, the original depth must have 
been much greater, probably twice what it is now. It was there¬ 
fore intended by its first engineer as a reservoir, rather than as a 
means of reaching a spring. Then again, if any wall, as some 
suppose, once surrounded its mouth, on which the traveller could 
rest, it is now gone. The mouth is funnel shaped, and its sides 
are formed by the rubbish of old buildings, a church having once 
been erected over it. But we can descend this funnel, and enter a 
cave, as it were, a few feet below the surface, which is the remains 
of a small dome that once covered the mouth. Descending a few 
feet we perceive in the floor an aperture partly covered by a flat 
stone, and leaving a sufficient space through which we can look 
into darkness. We sent a plumbline down into the water—with 
which the well certainly seemed to be abundantly supplied at the 
time of our visit. 

Many have been puzzled to account for Jacob’s having dug such 
.a well here, when the whole valley of Shechem, only a quarter of 
an hour’s walk off, is more musical with streams than any other in 
Palestine. But some one dug the well,—and who more likely than 











230 


EASTWARD. 


Jacob, not only to have on his own property what was in his time 
more valuable than a private coal mine would be to us; but also 
for the moral purpose of keeping his family and dependants-as 
separate as possible from the depraved Shechemites ? 

Wily the woman of Samaria should have come here to draw 
water, so far away from the valley and its many springs, is a ques¬ 
tion which may be more difficult to answer. I cannot think it 
could have been because of the superior quality of the water, for 
no cistern could afford a purer, cooler, or better quality than that 
which gushes everywhere along the Valley of Nablous. It seems 
to me that her motive was a superstitious one—a motive pertain¬ 
ing to her conscience. It was to her “ a holy well,” such as are 
frequented in Ireland as places of Homan Catholic devotion, or 
rather superstition. She was restless, dissatisfied, and unhappy ; 
burdened with a sense of wrongdoing, and thirsting after what she 
had never found. Thus her whole state of mind in coming here 
to draw water, and her attempt to assuage the thirst of her spirit 
for peace, would be an unconscious preparation for her reception of 
the Saviour’s teaching, which was so suited to reveal her plague, 
and also to heal her of it. It is evident that she was, consider¬ 
ing her circumstances, well informed as to Scripture facts; that 
she was interested in the “ Church ” questions of her place and 
time, and had much of that kind of “ religious ” feeling (often 
possessed by persons of a susceptible and emotional temperament) 
which, where principle is wanting, gives birth at once to a sen¬ 
suous superstition and a sensuous life. But before evil habits have 
“ petrified the feelings,” there is a stage at which such persons are 
more easily impressed than others with less heart though perhaps 
more “ respectability.” 

How long will it be, we ask with eager longing, ere clergy and 
people shall truly possess the spirit expressed in these words ?— 
“ Jesus saith unto her, Woman, believe me, the hour cometh, when 
ye shall neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, worship 













BETHLEHEM TO SAMARIA. 


231 


the Father. . . The hour cometh, and now is, when the true wor¬ 
shippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth : for the 
Father seeketh such to worship him. God is a Spirit: and they 
that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.” * 

This well is indeed a holy spot. One is glad that the contending 
ecclesiastical parties in the land have built their churches on places 
which have little historical value, and that a merciful Providence 
has preserved untouched, and open to the eye of heaven, such spots 
as that on the Mount of Olives “over against the Temple,” and, 
above all, Jacob’s Well. It is now said, however, that the Greek 
Church have purchased it, as the site of a church, for 70,000 
piastres. Universal Christendom, to which it belongs, should 
protest against such “ pious ” profanation. 

The two parallel ridges of Mount Gerizim and Ebal, as shown 
in the map on next page, abruptly terminate with their rounded 
masses in the dead Hat plain. The Valley of Nablous leads to 
the plain as a narrow strait to an inland sea. A mile and a-half 
up this valley lies the town, nestled amidst an exuberance of 
foliage—vines, figs, pomegranates, oranges, and every fruitful tree, 
all growing beside inexhaustible streams of living water. Nothing 
in Palestine surpasses the picturesqueness of this spot when looked 
at from any of the surrounding heights. Travellers have no doubt 
seen places elsewhere of greater beauty. But here, in the midst 
of the white, bare, hot hills and plains, it stands alone in its glory 
of fruit and verdure, of running brooks and singing birds. Should 
any one penetrate these groves, however, he woidd find little of 
the art which helps Nature to produce that ideal of the beautiful 


* Once when abroad I heard an eloquent sermon preached by a dignitary of the 
Christian Church, on this passage, in which he ridiculed “ Sectaries,” who, being 
but of yesterday, presumed to speak of “ our fathers ” as he and his brethren could 
do. He lamented their sin in daring to worship on any other mountain than ‘ ‘ the 
true Jerusalem,” his own Church of course; where alone, by the use of its 
appointed forms and rituals, God could be worshipped in spirit and in truth ! 
















EASTWARD. 


after which she struggles. The grass grows wild, the ground is 
rough, while tangled shrubs and branches mingle with the trees 
as in a long-neglected garden. 



Nablous, or Shechem, is to the Christian traveller a standpoint 
for meditation, just as Hebron, Bethlehem, Nazareth, and Tiberias 
are. 

It was the earliest seat of the worship of the living God of 
which we have received any authentic information. To this plain 
of Moreh, or “ the oak,” Abraham first came from Padanaram, 
crossing the Jordan to the east, and ascending directly from it. At 
the head of the wady up which he must have travelled, is a village 
now called Salem, or Salim, about two miles from Jacob’s Well. It 
has been conjectured, with a high degree of probability, that this, 
and not Jerusalem (which until centuries afterwards, in David’s 
time, had no importance attached to it, and is but once in Scrip- 













•iiiTzi.iof) aunoj^- 
















































BETHLEHEM TO SAMARIA. 


233 


ture called Salem) was the place where Melchizedek dwelt as the 
priest of the most high God, and where he met and blessed Abra¬ 
ham. If so, this would account for the mention of “ the oak,” as 
being already known as the place where the worship of the true 
God had been established. It has moreover been maintained, with 
to me convincing argument, by Dr. Stanley, supported by Mr. Mills, 
that Mount Gerizim (on which Melchizedek may also have wor¬ 
shipped) was the scene of Abraham’s intended sacrifice of Isaac. 
It suits the geography of the country much better tham Jeru¬ 
salem. Abraham could hardly have taken three days in going 
from Beersheba to Jerusalem, as the whole distance is but thirty- 
six miles. Besides, there is no point in the journey, taking any 
ordinary route, from which he could have seen the present Temple 
area, or even the site of Jerusalem, “afar off.” But if he came to 
Gerizim from the same starting-point, his journey would have been 
about sixty miles, which is nothing for an Arab traveller to accom¬ 
plish in three days, on the most common ass, more especially if he 
rose “ very early in the morning ” of the first day. If, moreover, 
Abraham journeyed, as no doubt he did, along the maritime plain, 
Gerizim is so situated that it must have been seen “ afar off ” on 
the morning of the third day.* 

If to these associations connected with Shechem we add another, 
that it was the residence of Jacob, who followed the steps of his 
grandfather,— bought a parcel of ground, and dug a well,—we at 
once see the reason why the place was known to Moses and the 
Israelites in Egypt as the only spot in Canaan solemnly consecrated 
from the earliest patriarchal times to the worship of God. It was 
for this reason, no doubt, that Moses commanded the children of 
Israel to assemble at Shechem. And we read accordingly that 

* The argument against this view, from the name “ Moriah ” being given to the 
site of the Temple, has no force, as it was evidently bestowed because of David’s 
vision. “ Solomon began to build the house of the Lord in the mount of Moriah 
(i.e. “ the appearance of the Lord ”) where He appeared unto David his father. 

n u 

















234 


EASTWARD. 


Josliua assembled them, when “all Israel, and their elders, and 
officers, and their judges, stood on this side the ark and on that 
side before the priests the Levites, which bare the ark of the cove¬ 
nant of the Lord, as well the stranger, as he that was born among 
them; half of them over against Mount Gerizim, and half of them 
over against mount Ebal; as Moses the servant of the Lord had 
commanded before, that they should bless the people of Israel. 
And afterward he read all the words of the law, the blessings and 
cursings, according to all that is written in the book of the law. 
There was not a word of all that Moses commanded, which Joshua 
read not before all the congregation of Israel, with the women, and 
the little ones, and the strangers that were conversant among 
them.” It is not here said, as some imagine, that the summit of 
each mountain was occupied by the half of the great assembly. 
But they were “ half of them set over against mount Gerizim, and 
half of them over against mount Ebal.” Nor is it the case that 
the words even if read from the summits of the mountains would 
have been inaudible; for the experiment was actually made by 
Mr. Mills and a friend, who occupied places on the opposite hills, 
and read aloud the blessings and the curses, each being distinctly 
heard by the other.* 

Such an assembly as this of the united Church of God was 
never before witnessed, unless perhaps at Shiloh, when the taber¬ 
nacle was set up; nor since then, unless when Christ’s Church met 
on the day of Pentecost. 

It was here, too, that another event took place full of sacred 
and dramatic interest—the burial of Joseph. Nearly five hundred 
years before the assembling of the people by Joshua, Joseph, as 
a young shepherd lad, passed through this plain in search of his 
brethren. What a life was his! But his influence did not end 
with his death. Though dead he was yet a silent but most 


* Mills’ “ Modem Samaritans,” p. .V.t 


















BETHLEHEM TO SAMARIA. 


235 


impressive witness to the people of faith in God and in His 
promises. How strange a . sight was that body embalmed for 
centuries, carried through the wilderness for forty years with the 
ark of God, and finally buried by that vast assemblage, each one 
a blood relation, in the land of 2 )romiso, and in the very field 
purchased by his father ! What memories must have gathered 
round his grave I How undying is the influence of faith, hope, 
and love ! This is what we are told of that remarkable funeral : 
“And the bones of Joseph, which the children of Israel brought 
up out of Egypt, buried they in Shechem, in a parcel of ground 
which Jacob bought of the sons of Hamor the father of Shechem 
for an hundred pieces of silver : and it became the inheritance of 
the children of Joseph.” 

There is no reason to doubt that the tomb shown is really 
Joseph’s. It remains, like that of his ancestors at Hebron, to 
witness again, it may be, to the truth of Bible history. 

But we must not forget the modern Samaritans, whose existence 
invests Nablous with great interest. We pause and wonder as we 
realise the fact of a community, consisting of only about 150 souls, 
or forty families, living for nearly 3000 years separate from all 
other races on earth, with their own Pentateuch, ritual, sacrifices, 
and worship, and surviving all the changes and revolutions of 
Palestine and of the world. Here they are still, worshipping 
towards Mount Gerizim, having no fellowship with the Jews, 
keeping Ml the great festivals prescribed by Moses, and eating 
their Passover “ on this mountain,” the oldest spot for the worship 
of Jehovah on the face of the earth ! Such a fact stands alone. 
This undying dogmatism puzzles historians; this race, so noble¬ 
looking, yet marrying only in their own small community, puzzles 
ethnographers, and creates in all feelings of wonder such as 
one might experience if in some distant land he came upon 
breeds of Mammoths, or Pterodactyles, which everywhere else 
were known only as fossils. To meet them here especially, 














236 


EASTWARD. 


at Jacob’s Well, and under the same delusions as when Christ 
first preached to them and converted many of them, but adds 
to the wonder of a spectacle familiar to every traveller in 
Palestine. 

We ascended Gerizim. It is a rather tough bit of climbing. 
I assigned this alpine occupation to my horse, and yet suffered 
sufficiently, after a day’s ride, to sympathise with liis patient but 
painful labours. There is much to interest one on the summit:— 
the scattered ruins; the massive remains of what some allege to 
have been the old Samaritan Temple, but what others say, 
with I think greater probability, was a Roman fort. Then 
there is the unquestionable site of an old place of sacrifice ; and 
the more questionable twelve stones which Joshua brought from 
the Jordan, but which it is now difficult even to number or to 
distinguish from the underlying strata. There is also the trough 
where the paschal lamb is roasted, some of whose burnt bones 
I gathered. And there is the magnificent view over the plain 
across the valley of the Jordan to the mountain beyond, and 
westward to the blue Mediterranean. 

We of course visited the famous Samaritan synagogue. Our 
approach to it seemed to us at the time to be by an exceptional 
way, though it is possibly the ordinary road to this ancient 
sanctuary. 1 cannot recall each turn and winding; but I have 
a confused impression of an endless succession of narrow lanes, 
low vaulted passages, and almost pitch-dark cavernous tunnels, 
through which we were led, until we reached a steep narrow stair 
leading to the roof of a house, from which we passed along to a 
court with an orange-tree growing in it, and thence into the small 
vaulted synagogue, the only place of worship of this ancient 
Church in the whole world. In all this we recognised precautions 
against sudden attacks, such as we had noticed in enterinsr our 
lodgings at Hebron. 

The Samaritans professed to show us their old and famous copy 














HILL SAMARIA, FROM THE SOUTH-EAST. 

































































































































































































237 


BETHLEHEM TO SAMARIA. 


of the Pentateuch. This we knew was a pious fraud, but we did 
not take the trouble to contradict them, as a sight of the real one 
can only be obtained with great difficulty, and would have simply 
gratified a vain curiosity in us. The old roll is of very high, but 
as yet unknown antiquity. Its possessors allege that it was 
written by the great grandson of Aaron. 

The morning was glorious when we rode out of Nablous. A 
luxurious atmosphere hung over the gardens, and subdued the 
sharp statuesque lines of the hills. A Turkish regiment, with 
strings of camels, was winding through the valley,—their band 
playing its wild music, and giving to the whole scene a true touch 
of Eastern life and barbaric power. We were told that they were 
going to keep some restless and tax-hating tribes in order, to the 
south of Hebron. 

The ride from Nablous to Samaria is along a good bridle-path, 
with pleasant scenery all the way, including a view of the upper 
part of the valley of Nablous, rich, as its lower portion, in abun¬ 
dance of water, and fruit and flowers. We passed many picturesque 
village strongholds, like eagles’ or rather vultures’ nests, built on 
commanding summits, and having fertile valleys and groves of 
olives at their feet. 

No old city in Palestine had a site so striking, so regal-looking, 
as the “ hill of Samaria.” It is a shapely hill, rising at the end of 
a fine valley, and moulded into a fitting platform for a great 
temple. On all sides it is circled by noble terraces, which must 
have once borne splendid wreaths of vines and olives, furnishing 
wine and oil in abundance to its luxurious inhabitants. The 
summit of the hill is flat, and was evidently levelled for the site 
of the public buildings which occupied it from the days of Baal 
and Ahab, to those of Augustus and Herod. Fifteen columns rear 
their solitary heads on this flat, though it is uncertain to what 
building they belonged, or for what object they and their now 
fallen brethren were reared. It is when standing on this level 


















EASTWARD. 


>38 


that we can appreciate Omri’s taste in making Samaria the site 
of his capital. The surrounding hills, plains, and valleys teem 
with every product of the soil. The Mediterranean is seen 
stretching its blue waters beyond the plain of Sharon ; while 
its fresh breezes blow up the valleys and circulate all around. 
And one can see how easily besieging armies would have been 
visible on the amphitheatre of hills which surround Samaria on 
three sides, and from whence they could have looked down into 
the streets of the suffering city and witnessed its every movement. 

Here there are very striking remains of a magnificent colonnade, 
composed of two ranges of pillars about 50 feet apart, and which 
it is conjectured—from the length of the terrace on which the 
sixty pillars yet stand—must have extended for about 3000 feet. 
It was probably the work of Herod, who adorned Scbaste, 

There are also the ruins of a noble old church dedicated to 
St. John the Baptist. Few things are more sad than such ruins 
in Palestine, as they evidence a time when Christianity was so 
strong, and so hopeful of continued strength, that it built churches 
which shame most of those reared in later and richer times. 

Close to the church is an old reservoir, which may have been 
the pool in which Ahab washed his bloody chariot. But all 
Samaria is ruins, nothing but ruins; and never were words more 
true than those which we read aloud here:—“Therefore I will 
make Samaria as an heap of the field, and as plantings of a 
vineyard : and I will pour down the stones thereof into the valley, 
and I will discover the foundations thereof.” 

The associations connected with the capital of Ephraim are very 
different from those suggested by the capital of Judah. They are 
all of abominable idolatries, cruel sieges, horrible famines, full 
indeed of dramatic interest, but more full of lamentation and 
woe.* When God’s prophets appear in Samaria, or speak about 


* Read, for example, 1 Kings xx. ; 2 Kings yi. 12—33. 
















* 


SAMARIA—REMAINS OF HEROD’S COLONNADE, FROM THE SOUTH-WEST. 











































































































































































* 









































BETHLEHEM TO SAMARIA. 


2 39 


it, it is but to lament and denounce its impiety, vices, and crimes. 
It was a powerful city, but “ sensual-minded, earthly, devilish.” 
Yet that light of mercy and love which is in Christ for the chief 
ot sinners, shone in the latter days on Samaria. When St. John— 
whose Boanerges’ feelings were like the heaving waters of the 
deep ocean—desired fire from heaven to consume the Samaritans, 
who refused to receive Jesus into one of their villages, the Lord 
rebuked him, and said that He had come, not to destroy men’s 
lives, but to save them ; and simply turned aside to another 
village. “Thou art a Samaritan!” was one of the accusations 
hurled against Him. So indeed He was!—but in a deeper sense 
than Jew or Samaritan could understand. Verily as “ a good 
Samaritan,” He healed His brethren, sorely wounded by the 
enemy of soul and body ; and by His example and teaching broke 
down the Avail of hate Avhich separated Samaritan from Jew, 
showing that if salvation was of the Jews, it was yet for the 
Samaritans, and for all men who would worship God in spirit and 
in truth. And so Avhen giving commandment on the day of His 
ascension regarding the preaching of the Gospel, He remembered 
Samaria. And His disciples, too, remembered and obeyed His 
words, for Philip went down to preach there, as did also Peter and 
John, to strengthen the faith of the believers. So in spite of 
Omri and Ahab, and all the devil’s work down to the days of 
Simon Magus, a church was formed, “ and great joy was in that 
city ”—a joy Avhich no one has taken from its lowliest member, 
who passed in Christ from the old Samaria now in ruins, to the 
new Jerusalem eternal in the heavens ! 









X. 


SAMARIA TO TIBERIAS. 

- *- 

After leaving Samaria we passed, at some distance to the left, 
a gently swelling hill rising out of the plain, called Tell Dothain. 
Strange that the name of Dothan should still remain attached to 
this spot. Most willingly would we have turned aside for an hour 
to visit the place where that story of Joseph and his brethren, 
which for ages has been read with breathless interest by the young 
child and the aged saint, began to unfold itself; and where also 
that Avondrous scene occurred for the account of which I refer my 
readers to 2 Kings vi. 8—23. But Ave Avere prevented by that 
Avant so common in a Avorld where men’s lives are short—the Avant 
of time. 

It is Avorth noticing, hoAvever, that the caravans from Gilead to 
Egypt still enter the hill country at Dothan, passing thence to the 
maritime plain by Gaza. I have never heard of the pit into Avhich 
Joseph Avas let doAvn having been discovered. But it is only a 
few years since this locality was identified ; and no doubt our 
ignorance of it and of many spots associated Avitli caves, rocks, and 
other unchanged features of the country, would to a large extent 
be dispelled, if such a society as that which has been formed for 
the exploration of Palestine Avere properly encouraged.* 

Our next halt Avas at Jenin (the ancient Engannim of Joshua 

* Why does not this society appeal to the provinces and great commercial 
towns for support ? It would be sure to get the necessary funds if some of its 
leading members would only take the trouble to bring its claims vied voce before 
the general public. 





















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PLAIN OF ESDRAELON AND GALILEE, 




























































































SAMARIA TO TIBERIAS. 


241 


xxi. 29), and there, on a grassy field, with a sparkling stream of 
water rushing past, we pitched our tents. Unseen frogs, more 
numerous than could be accommodated in the grand orchestra of 
the Crystal Palace, croaked a concert all night long. The village 
of Jenin rose above us ; but we did not visit the dishonest and 
disorderly settlement, having been- advised to give it what sailors 
call “ a wide berth.” We were a strong party, and showed our 
sense of security by adding to the brilliancy of the moon the light 
of a few Roman candles, whose loud reports and starry rays 
impressed the Arabs with some respect for our joower. So at least 
we fondly believed, although it was as well that they did not put 
our strength to the proof. 

Jenin is on the edge of the great plain of Esdraelon, which we 
had to cross on our way to Nazareth. What a strange “ Blue 
Book” of Turkish rule is this same plain of Esdraelon ! It is one 
of the most fertile in the world. It might present such a scene of 
peasant prosperity, comfort, and happiness as could not be sur¬ 
passed on earth. But instead of this it is a rough uninhabited 
common, and, but for the bounty of Nature—which, with never- 
failing patience and charity, returns an hundred-fold whatever is 
here committed to its soil—it would be a dreary wilderness. 
Unfortunately there are beyond the Jordan a numerous and wide¬ 
spread race of scoundrels, who live in tents, gallop about on fine 
horses, brandish spears, fire long guns, tell lies, rob their neigh¬ 
bours, and possess no virtue under heaven that is not serviceable 
to their greedy pockets or hungry stomachs. Romance they have 
none, unless it be the romance of plunder. Their “ Arabian 
Nights” are but nights of robbery. The Turkish government, or 
even a London “ Limited ” Company possessing ordinary sense 
and enterprise, might, with a dozen rifled cannon placed in com¬ 
manding positions, keep these Ishmaelites at bay, and defy them 
to steal west of the Jordan. But as things are now managed, the 

Bedouin make a raid as a matter of amusement or profit. They 

1 1 
















242 


EASTWARD. 


swarm, like locusts, from the Hauran, cover the great plain, pitch 
their black tents, feed their camels, gallop their horses, reap the 
crops, shoot the peasants, and then return to their lairs beyond 
tjie Jordan, there to crunch their marrow-bones at leisure, with 
none to molest them or make them afraid. 

Much is said about the power of a certain Agyhil Aglia who 
reigns over the plain, and is employed as a sort of detective, on 
the principle, I suppose, of setting one thief to catch another. 
Agha, from suspicion or jealousy, was at one time dismissed by 
the government of Constantinople, and another governor, or 
pasha, or detective, put in his place. But he attacked the Turkish 
troops who were sent to seize him, and massacred about eighty of 
them. Having thus shown his talent and force of character to the 
satisfaction of the Sublime Porte, he was forthwith re-appointed 
police-officer of the district. Such is Turkish “ government.” 
There is no doubt, however, that Agyhil Agha is a powerful chief, 
and exercises much authority over the district, protecting Christian 
and Moslem with even-handed justice, and being a great terror to 
evil-doers from the Hauran. Travellers are therefore recommended 
to obtain, for guide, counsellor, and friend, one of Agha’s troopers, 
who, when paid reasonable black-mail, will secure the lives and 
property of those committed to his charge. Our worthy drago¬ 
man, Hadji Ali, did not, however, deem it necessary to adopt this 
precaution, although he expressed anxiety to see us safely across 
the Pirate Gulf. Begging my pistol, he loaded it, and gallantly 
went ahead as guard and scout.* 

* Though we laughed at Hadji’s fears, and put them down to a little love of 
display or of excitement, yet I learn from M. de Pressense’s narrative of his tour, 
that our former fellow-traveller, the ex-Duke of Modena, was robbed on this plain 
a few days after we crossed it ! As a warning to travellers, I may here state that 
my pistol, which was sent home in a box from Beyrout, was, on examination by 
the Custom-house officers at Liverpool, found to be loaded. Never having loaded 
it myself, and being ignorant of Hadji’s having done so, I very carelessly did not 
think of examining it before it was packed. 





















































































* 












JEZREEL, FROM THE EAST. 


















































































































































































































































































SAMARIA TO TIBERIAS. 


243 


We pushed on from Jenin towards Jezreel, which is about seven 
miles to the north. The low point on which Jezreel is situated 
runs into the plain of Esdraelon from the high ridge of Gilboa, 
dividing it into two unequal bays. Approaching Jezreel from the 
south, there is little apparent ascent, but the plateau on which it 
is built falls rapidly on the north side, by a descent of 200 feet or 
so, to the other portion of the plain, which lies between it and the 
range of the Little Hermon, or El Duhy, and which is called the 
plain of Jezreel, though it is but a bay of Esdraelon. On or near 
the spot where Allah’s Palace is likely to have stood, is an ancient 
tower, built I know not when, nor by whom. We ascended to its 
upper story, and there, through three windows, opening to the 
east, west, and north, obtained an excellent view of all the inter¬ 
esting portions of the surrounding landscape. Beneath us lay the 
famous plain—a rolling sea of verdure, yet lonely looking, being 
without inhabitants. We saw no villages or huts dotting its sur¬ 
face—not even a solitary horseman, but only troops of gazelles 
galloping away into the distance, and some birds of prey, appa¬ 
rently vultures, wheeling in the sky, and doubtless looking out for 
work from their masters the Bedouin. This green prairie stretches 
for upwards of twenty miles towards the Mediterranean. It is the 
more striking from its contrast with the wild bare hills among 
which we had been travelling, and with those which look down 
immediately upon it. It separates the highlands of Southern 
Palestine from the hill country of the more lowland north, as the 
plain along which the railway passes from Lochlomond to Stirling- 
separates the highlands of Rob Roy from the lowland hills of the 
Campsie range that rise above the valley of the Clyde. 

This tower of Jezreel is another of those points of view which 
command a number of famous historical places, the sight of 
which, with their relative positions, gives great clearness and 
vividness to the Bible narratives. Standing on the tower, we see, 
through the window looking northward, three or four miles off, 










244 


EASTWARD. 


the range of the Little Hermon (a fac simile of the Pentlands, 
near Edinburgh), with the village of Shunem on one of its slopes. 
Through the eastern window the view is filled up by the rolling 
‘ ridge of Gilboa. The western window opens to the plain vanishing 
in the distance with the long ridge of Carmel, and other hills 
bounding it to the south, and the hills of Galilee to the north. 
With map and Bible in hand, let us look through these open 
windows, and see how much of the past is recalled and revivified 
by even one view in Palestine. 

Through the opening to the north, we see Shunem, where dwelt 
the good Slmnamite, whose little humbly-furnished chamber in 
the wall welcomed the great prophet “ who oft passed by ” that 
way, and who must have been familiar therefore with every object 
which now meets our eye, as well as with many others that have 
passed away. We see at a glance how the afflicted mother, with 
the thoughts of her dead child and of “ the man of God ” in her 
heart, would cross the plain to the range of Carmel, ten or twelve 
miles off. We stlso see how from its summit the Prophet would 
see her riding over the plain, and how he would have accompanied 
her back a^ain. 

o 

And Shunem, with Gilboa (seen out of the eastern window), 
recall two great battles familiar to us the battle of Gideon 
with the hordes of the Midianites who swarmed along the sides 
of Hermon, and the battle of Saul with the Philistines who 
occupied the same position. 

From Gilboa, Gideon with his selected army descended. Im¬ 
mediately beneath it we can see the fountain—gleaming like 
burnished silver in the sun’s rays—where doubtless Gideon had 
separated the rash and the cowardly from his army. Descending 
at night with his select band from these rocky heights, he must 
have passed the narrow valley which lay between him and 
Shunem. Then with three hundred lights suddenly revealed 
and gleaming on every side, as if belonging to a great army, and 


















SAMARIA TO TIBERIAS. 


245 


with the piercing war-cry of “ The Sword of the Lord and of 
Gideon ! ” he fell like a lightning-stroke on the sleeping and 
careless host, who, seized by a panic, fled in terror before the 
pursuing warriors, down the steep descent to the fords of the 
J ordan. 

On the same place, too, the host of the Philistines, which made 
Saul sore afraid, pitched their tents on the night before they 
attacked the king and his son on Gilboa. One sees how Saul 
must have then travelled to En-dor. It lies two hours off on the 
other side of Hermon. He must have gone round the right flank 
of the enemy, crossing the shoulder of the hill to reach it. One 
of the most dreary spectacles of human misery was that journey 
to the foul den of the witch of En-dor ! We see the tall form, 
bent like a pine-tree beneath the midnight storm, but every inch 
a king in spite of his disguise, enter the cave in darkness and bow 
down before the deceiving hag. How touching his longing to 
meet Samuel, who had known and loved him in his better days ; 
and his craving desire, however perverted, to obtain in his loneli¬ 
ness the sympathy of any spirit, whether alive or dead. And 
when he sees, or rather believes that the wicked impostor sees, 
the form of his old friend, what a wail is that from a broken 
heart:—“ I am sore distressed ! The Philistines make war against 
me, and God is departed from me, and answereth me by dreams 
no more ! ” The only parallel to it is the picture given by Shake¬ 
speare of Richard the Third the night before he was slain :— 

“ I shall despair :—there is no creature loves me ; 

And if I die, no soul shall pity me.” 

But Saul was loved by one whom his proud and eager ambition 
dragged down with himself on the bloody battle-field ; and he 
was pitied by one who had ever reverenced his kingly head, and 
had dispelled the brooding darkness from his soul by the cunning 














246 


EASTWARD. 


minstrelsy of the harp. And the sweet singer of Israel has for 
ever invested those sterile hills of Gilboa with a charm, by his 
incomparable lament for Saul and Jonathan,—by the womanly 
1 love which it breathes for his old friend, and the chivalrous 
generosity, the godlike charity, which it pours out in tears over 
his old enemy:—“Saul and Jonathan were pleasant in their lives, ' 
and in their death they were not divided ! ” 

As if to make the scene of that battle-field still more complete, 
the top of the hill of Beth-shaan (now called Beisan) rises, like 
Dumbarton rock, close under the hill of Gilboa, and overhangs 
the valley of the Jordan. To the gates of its citadel the bodies of 
Saul and his three sons were fastened, until removed by the brave 
men of Jabesli-gilead,* from the opposite side of the Jordan, who 
thus testified their remembrance of the time when Saul had 
delivered them, thirty years before, from the Amorites.*f* 

But the interest and teaching of this old battle-plain are not 
yet exhausted. As'we look out of the opposite window, towards 
the south and west, we see to the left a long line of low hills 
which here and there send points into the plain, with retiring 
bays and valleys between, and end at the smooth ridge of Mount 
Carmel. On the shore of one of those green bays, seven or eight 

t 

miles off, we see Taanach, and four miles or so beyond, Megiddo, 
past which “the waters of Megiddo” flow to join the Kisbon. 
Now it was from Tabor, which is concealed from us by the ridge 
of the Little Hermon, that Barak, at the instigation of Deborah, 
marched about twelve miles across the plain from the north, and 
amidst a storm of wind and rain attacked the chariots of Sisera in 
the marshes of the Kishon, and gained that famous victory which 
freed Israel from the terrible thraldom in which they had been 
held by the heathen Canaanites. 

At Megiddo, too, the good Josiah was killed in his brave but 


* 1 Sam. xxxi. 11. 


f 1 Sam. xi. 3, 4. 


















MOUNT TABOR, FROM THE NORTH. 

















































































































































































































SAMARIA TO TIBERIAS. 


247 


foolish attempt to stay the progress of the king of Egypt when 
going to attack the Assyrians. 

Again we notice from the same window, a few miles off in the 
plain, what looks like a ruin. It is El Fuleh, the remains of an 
old Crusaders’ fortress, and famous as the scene of the “ battle of 
Mount Tabor,” where a French force of 3000 men under Kleber, 
resisted in square, for six hours, a Turkish army of 30,000, half 
cavalry and half infantry, and, when joined by Napoleon with 
fresh troops, gained the battle. After all it was a fruitless victory 
to Napoleon, for Sir Sidney Smith checked his Eastern progress 
by the brave defence of Acre—another scene of battle almost 
belonging to the plain of Esdraelon. It is strange indeed to have 
thus connected in the same place, battles fought by Barak, Gideon, 
Saul, and Napoleon ! It is probably from the fact of this place 
having been of old the great battle-field of Palestine, that in the 
book of Revelation it is made the symbol of the mysterious conflict 
called “the battle of Armageddon ” or “ the city of Megiddo.” 

And there are other associations still suggested by the land¬ 
scape. The most tragic and dramatic histories in the Old Testa¬ 
ment are recalled by the place we stand on, and by Carmel in the 
distance. For on that height beyond Megiddo, and on a spot 
which with highest probability can be identified, the great Elijah 
met the prophets of Baal, in a terrible world conflict, God himself 
testifying to His faithful servant, who apparently was a solitary 
witness for His being and character. From that spot, twelve 
miles off, the prophet, borne up by an ecstatic fervour at such a 
crisis in his own life and in the life of the nation, ran, amidst the 
storm of wind and rain,- before the chariot of Ahab to this 
Jezreel:—“ It came to pass in the meanwhile, that the heaven 
was black with clouds and wind, and there was a great rain. And 
Ahab rode, and went to Jezreel. And the hand of the Lord was 
on Elijah ; and he girded up his loins, and ran before Ahab to 
the entrance of Jezreel.” 
















248 


EASTWARD. 


To this Jezreel the same Elijah, after having been threatened 
by the murderess Jezebel, returned from his mysterious and awful 
journey through the wilderness to Horeb. Weak and fearful as a 
' man, but strong in God, he came to slay Aliab and Jezebel with 
the sword of his mouth for the murder of poor Naboth. “ And 
the word of the Lord came to Elijah the Tishbite, saying, Arise, 
go down to meet Ahab king of Israel, which is in Samaria: 
behold, he is in the vineyard of Naboth, whither lie is gone down 
to possess it. And thou shalt speak unto him, saying, Thus saith 
the Lord, Hast thou killed, and also taken possession ? And thou 
shalt speak unto him, saying, Thus saith the Lord, In the place 
where dogs licked the blood of Naboth shall dogs lick thy blood, 
even thine. And Ahab said to Elijah, Hast thou found me, O 
mine enemy ? And he answered, I have found thee : because thou 
hast sold thyself to work evil in the sight of the Lord.” 

And here, too, where we stand, occurred all that terrible and 
almost unequalled tragedy recorded in the 9th chapter of the 
2nd Book of Kings, when Jehu w r as selected as a most willing 
instrument in God’s Providence for executing judgment on an 
infamous family. The whole living scene of horror seems to pass 
before our eyes;—King Joram living here with his mother, 
Jezebel, while recovering from his wounds;—King Ahaziah, 
courtly but unprincipled, coming from Jerusalem to visit Joram ; 
—the sudden appearance of Jehu, driving furiously along the 
plain, from Jabesh-gilead, and easily seen six miles off;—the 
meeting of the kings with him in the vineyard of Naboth, pro¬ 
bably near yonder fountain in the plain which had watered the 
poor man’s garden of herbs ;—the death of Joram ;—the flight of 
Ahaziah to Jenin, and then to Megiddo, where he died ;—the 
hurling of the wicked Jezebel out of the window, in spite of her 
paint and her hypocrisy, and her destruction by the wolfish 
dogs, which does not pain me, but indeed gives me great satisfac¬ 
tion—she was so vile ! And then—for the horrible history of the 

















THE PLAIN ON JEZREEL, SHUNEM, AND LITTLE HERMON. 







































































































































SAMARIA TO TIBERIAS. 


249 


place is not over—the ghastly pile of seventy heads of the sons of 
Ahab slain at Samaria, and the subsequent massacre of all con¬ 
nected with the house and palace of Ahab. 

All these incidents are recalled from the tower of Jezreel as 
we gaze on the several places where they occurred, and which 
brings them up with as much vividness as the field of Waterloo 
recalls the events of that great battle. But Nature has resumed 
her quiet reign over the hill of Jezreel. All is silent and desolate 
now ; Baal and his worshippers have passed away, and so have the 
calves of Bethel and of Dan, and the very memory of those events 
and their actions has departed from the land. Evil, like a fierce 
hurricane, always blows itself out; while good, like the sun, shines 
ever on from generation to generation. And so while Ahab and 
Jezebel have ceased to influence the world except as witnesses for 
God’s righteous opposition to evil, Elijah, once alone and broken¬ 
hearted, and anxious to find a grave, lives in the heart of the 
Christian Church, as one transfigured with his Lord, and the type 
of every faithful brother. 

We were very thankful to have stood on this tower of Jezreel. 
It is a noble pivot for memory to turn upon. It made whole 
chapters of history much clearer to 11 s. 

We crossed the plain, and passed through Shunem. There are 
no “ great ladies ” there now, as it is a very squalid village ; nor 
did its inhabitants appear to be descendants of any good Sliun- 
amites, male or female, for we were pelted with stones when 
passing through. Fortunately, however, they were neither very 
large nor very near, serving only to make us quicken our pace, and 
to make Hadji scold in fierce guttural Arabic with pistol in hand. 
The attack was made by a number of boys, from the heights, 
and was doubtless prompted by the universal love of mischief 
peculiar to the young portion of our race, rather than by any 
hatred of Nazarenes peculiar to the place. 

We crossed Hermon, and found ourselves in a small decayed 


K K 























250 


EASTWARD. 


village on the edge of another bay of Esdraelon, which rolls 
between the hills <^' Galilee and Hermon to the north. Hadji 
Ali recommended us to halt here, as it was an excellent place for 
lunch, having shelter from the heat, good water, and above all a 
friendly sheik, who would sell him a good lamb. But the village 
had attractions to us which Hadji knew not of. It was Nain. 
It is poor, confused, and filthy, like every village in Palestine, but 
its situation is very fine, as commanding a good view of the plain, 
with the opposite hills, and especially of Tabor, that rises like a 
noble wooded island at the head of the green bay. And Nain, in 
the light of the Gospel history, is another of those fountains 
of living water opened up by the Divine Saviour, which have 
flowed through all lands to refresh the thirsty. How many 
widows, for eighteen centuries, have been comforted, how many 
broken hearts soothed and healed, by the story of Nain,—by 
the unsought and unexpected sympathy of Jesus, and by His 
power and majesty. It was here that He commanded those 
who carried the bier of the widow’s only son to stop, and said 
to the widow herself, “Weep not,” and to her son, “Arise!” 
and then “ delivered him to his mother,” the most precious gift 
she could receive, and such as a divine Saviour alone could 
bestow. 

What has Nineveh or Babylon been to the world in comparison 
with Nain ? And this is the wonder constantly suggested by the 
insignificant villages of Palestine, that their names have become 
parts, as it were, of the deepest experiences of the noblest persons 
of every land, and every age. 

There are many remains of old tombs to the east of the village, 
and one may conjecture that it was as our Lord came into the 
city from Capernaum, that he met the procession going towards 
the tombs in that direction. 

Hadji’s hopes as to our getting a lamb in Nain were fulfilled. 
The sheik sold ^^s one, and the moment the bargain was con- 


















NAZARETII, FROM THE EAST, 
































































































SAMARIA TO TIBERIAS. 


251 


eluded, lie unexpectedly drew his knife, and killed the animal in 
our presence.* 

We crossed the plain and began to ascend the hills of Galilee 
which rise abruptly from it. The day was unpleasantly hot, and 
the sun beat on us with a heat more burning than we had 
hitherto experienced in Palestine. The ascent of the mountain, 
too, was by a wild path, which, as when descending to El Heram- 
yeh, was for some time along the channel of a torrent. There is 
another path further north, which is shorter, I believe, but it is 
rougher still. But the end of our day’s journey was the early 
home of Jesus. And who would grudge any amount of heat or 
fatigue when pushing on for such a destination! We soon 
descried the white houses of Nazareth, and with an eager 
inquiring look gazed on the inland basin, as I may call it, which, 
like a green nest, lies concealed from the gaze of the outer world 
among these beautiful secluded hills. We entered the town, and 
held straight on by church and convent, until, through narrow 
crowded bazaars and filthy lanes, we reached the further outskirts, 
and found our tents pitched in an olive grove, whose venerable 
trees have sheltered many a traveller. How much of the pleasure 
derived from seeing an object, such as a great work of art, or a 
scene of beauty or of historical interest, is derived from sympathy 
with others who have experienced the same feelings ? Not alone, 
therefore, but with thousands who had gone before us, we travelled 
through Palestine, and looked out from the olive grove on the 
hills of Nazareth. I did not visit any church, Greek or Latin. I 
had no wish to see the Holy Place of the Annunciation, as pointed 
out by the Greeks in their church at one end of the town, or by 
the Latins in theirs at the other. I had not even the curiosity to 

* Before flaying the lamb, an incision was made in the skin near the hind foot, 
when the sheik, applying his mouth to the orifice, inflated the whole skin. This 
seemed to make the operation of flaying much easier. For aught I know, this 
practice may be common, but I never saw it before or since. 























252 


EASTWARD. 


examine the place in the Franciscan Convent where that house of 
the Virgin once stood which was conveyed by angels to Loretto, 
and which, having received the sanction of the Infallible Curch in 
1518 through the Papal Bull of Leo X., is daily visited by greater 
crowds of admiring pilgrims than any holy place in Palestine, or 
perhaps in the world. I was much more anxious to exclude every 
thought and object which could distract my mind when seeking 
to realise this place as the home of Jesus of Nazareth. 

When the sun set I took a walk, all alone, among the hills. The 
night was illuminated by a full moon, which seemed to stand out 
of the sky as if it did not belong to the depths of blue beyond. 
Every object was revealed with marvellous clearness ; while the 
dark shadows from rock and tree, from “ dell and dingle,” with the 
subdued light veiling the bare white limestone, gave not only 
relief to the eye, but added to the beauty and pictui'esqueness of 
the scene. A low undulating 1 ridge of hills encloses the green 
plain that lies like a lake, with Nazareth built on one of its shores. 
I soon reached a point opposite to the town, where I sat down, 
protected from the intrusion of any chance traveller or prowler by 
the deep shadow of a tree. Thence, amid a silence broken only by 
the barking of the never-silent dogs, I gazed out, feeling painfully, 
as I often did before, the difficulty of “ taking it all in.” I inwardly 
repeated “ This is Nazareth ! Here—in this town—among these 
hills—Jesus was brought up as a child, and was subject to His 
meek and loving mother, ‘ full of grace ; ’ here as a boy ‘ He grew 
in wisdom and in stature; ’ here for many years He laboured as 
a man for His daily bread; here He lived as an acquaintance, 
neighbour, and friend. For years he gazed on this landscape, and 
walked along these mountain paths, and worshipped God among 
these solitudes, ‘ nourishing a life sublime ’ and far beyond our 
comprehension. Hither, too, He came c in the Spirit,’ after His 
baptism by water and by the Holy Ghost, and His consecration to 
the ministry; and after that new and mysterious era in His 






















SAMARIA TO TIBERIAS. 


253 


hitherto simple and uneventful life, when He was tempted of the 
devil. Here He preached His first sermon in the synagogue in 
which it had hitherto been His ‘custom’ to worship and to receive 
instruction; and here, too, He was first rejected—the dark cloud 
of hate from His brethren gathering over His loving soul. And 
one of these rocks became a rehearsal of the Cross of Calvary. 
Can all this,” I asked myself, “ be true ? Was this indeed the 
scene of such events as these ? ” 

There was nothing very grand in the appearance of the place, 
yet the circumstances under which I saw it prevented any painful 
conflict arising in the mind between the real and ideal. The 
town, with its white Avails, all gemmed with lights scintillating 
with singular brilliancy in the mountain air, seemed to clasp the 
rugged hill-side like a bracelet gleaming with jewels. Masses of 
white rock shone out from dark recesses. . The orchards and 
vineyards below were speckled with patches of bright moonlight 
breaking in among their shadows ; while peace and beauty rested 
over all. 

The question may naturally suggest itself to the reader, as it 
often does to the traveller, whether an earthly setting to such a 
picture as the life of Jesus has not a tendency to weaken one’s 
faith in the divinity, in proportion as it compels him to realise the 
humanity of Christ’s Person ? The reply which each traveller will 
give must necessarily be affected not only by his previous belief 
regarding Christ’s Person, but by the proportion of faith, so to 
speak, which he has been more or less consciously in the habit of 
exercising with reference to our Lord’s divine and human nature. 
Whether it was that in my own case the humanity of our Lord 
has ever been very real and precious to me, I know not, but the 
effect upon my mind of the scene at Nazareth Avas, if possible, to 
intensify my faith in His divinity. For as I gazed on that insig¬ 
nificant and loAvly toAvn, so far removed at all times from the 
busy centres of even provincial influence, I remembered how, in 



















254 


EASTWARD. 


that memorable sermon preached there to His old acquaintances 
and kinsfolk, these words were uttered by Him :—“ The Spirit 
of the Lord is upon me, because He hath anointed me to preach 
the gospel to the poor; He hath sent me to heal the broken¬ 
hearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of 
sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised, to 
preach the acceptable year of the Lord and that same Jesus 
added, “ This day is this scripture fulfilled in your ears.” I then 
recalled the previous life of the Man who dared thus to speak ;— 
how since His boyhood He lmd lived among the people whom He 
then addressed a life marked by no sign or wonder, but only by 
holiness, which men were too commonplace and unholy to see,— 
a life, too, in its ordinary visible aspects so like their own, that 
when He thus spoke all were amazed as if a great king had 
been suddenly revealed who had been from childhood among them 
in disguise ; and they asked with astonishment, “Is not this 
Joseph’s son ? ” 

Recalling this, and contrasting that past with all that had since 
sprung up out of the holiest hearts, and all that had been accom¬ 
plished on earth in the name of Jesus, then arose again the 
question put 1800 years ago :—“ Can any good thing come out of 
Nazareth ?” And what reply could I then give to it from personal 
experience, and from the light cast upon it by “ the long results of 
time ?” As a minister and member of the Church of Christ, and 
as a representative of a vast multitude on earth, and of a greater 
multitude now before the throne of God, I could but say, “Yea !” 
As sure as there is a right and wrong, as sure as there is a God, the 
highest good that man can possess and enjoy has come to us out 
of this very Nazareth ! From an experience tested in every land, 
in every age, in every possible variety of outward and inward cir¬ 
cumstances, we know that Jesus of Nazareth has proved himself to 
be what He said He was when He preached that first sermon ; we 
know and can testify that in our own spirits He has verilv 




















SAMARIA TO TIBERIAS. 


255 


“ fulfilled that word ”—that He has healed our broken hearts, 
delivered us who were captives to sin, restored our sight when 
blind, and given us that light which carries with it its own 
evidence of truth, and enables us to see God, filling our hearts 
with joy and gladness ! This was my reply. 

And a further question may suggest itself—“ Who was, or who 
is, this person, Jesus of Nazareth, to whom we owe all this good ?” 
A man like ourselves ? Yes, but surely more than a mere man ! 
The very perfection of His humanity points to something above 
humanity. And our faith is not in a Christ that was, to whom we 
owe all this good, but in a Christ that is—in one who “ was dead, but 
is alive and liveth for evermore,” and who is found to be the resur¬ 
rection and the life of every man who has faith in Him. There¬ 
fore it was that, believing and knowing this, the Divine Person of 
Christ, as I gazed at lowly Nazareth, reached the sky, and filled 
the whole earth with His glory ! 

Next day we ascended the hill above the town, to enjoy the 
view from the famous “ Wely.” There is not in Palestine a more 
commanding or more glorious view than this. It embraces a land¬ 
scape which almost takes in the hills overlooking Jerusalem to the 
south, and the highlands of the north rolling up in crossing ridges 
and increasing in height until crowned by the snows of the majestic 
Hermon. To the west is the Mediterranean stretching to the 
horizon, the brown arms of the bay of Acre embracing it where it 
touches the land ; while to the east are the hills of Gilead beyond 
the Jordan, vanishing in the pathless plains of the Hauran. 
Within this circumference every object is full of interest. The 
magnificent plain of Esdraelon lies mapped beneath us with its 
verdant bays, surrounded by famous shores. The view also among 
the hills of Galilee is most beautiful, varied as it is by rich inland 
plains too remote for the ravages of the Bedouin, and by pic¬ 
turesque and broken knolls clothed with wood, vines, and olives, 
and surrounded by verdant grass and corn-fields. There is one 





















256 


EASTWARD. 


bright gem in the centre of all—Cana of Galilee—where He who 
came eating and drinking sanctified for ever the use of all God’s 
gifts, calling none of them common or unclean, and the memories 
of which will for ever mingle with the joys of the marriage-feast. 
All around us were the “ ruins famed in story,” which we had seen 
on the previous day. 

One thought was constantly present—Jesus must often have 
gazed on this view, and recalled the events recorded in Old Testa¬ 
ment history suggested by it. It is remarkable that in His first 
sermon preached at Nazareth He alludes to the two great pro¬ 
phets, Elijah and Elisha, who made this plain illustrious by their 
deeds. What His thoughts and anticipations were, as He medi¬ 
tated on all the past for many a year, cannot be guessed by us. 
Enough that we were privileged to walk where He walked, to see 
what He saw, and, best of all, to know the truth of what He 
taught. 

From the “ Wely ” we pursued our journey to Tiberias, and 
bade farewell to Nazareth. Why attempt to describe our road ? 
No one who has not travelled it will see it from any words of 
mine, and those who have seen it need not have recalled to them 
what, after all, is not particularly worth remembering. 

The most striking view on the road is that of the famous 
“ Kurun,” or “ Horns of Hattin.” The general appearance of the 
hill is this—- 



I have applied the word famous to these “ horns,” not because 
of the view either of them or from them, though both are striking ; 
but because they mark the traditional Mount of the Beatitudes. 
This tradition has more in its favour than most traditions, as the 
position of the mountain with reference to the Lake of Tiberias in 
its neighbourhood, and the formation of the “ horns,” reconcile the 











SAMARIA TO TIBERIAS. 


257 


narrative of the circumstances in which “ the Sermon ” seems to 
have been preached, first from one height, and then from a lower. 
Dr. Stanley says regarding it :—“ It is the only height seen in 
this direction from the shores of the Lake of Gennesareth. The 
plain on which it stands is easily accessible from the lake, and 
from that plain to the summit is but a few minutes’ walk. The 
platform at the top is evidently suitable for the collection of a 
multitude, and corresponds precisely to the ‘ level place ’ ( tottov 
TTcbcvov), to which He would ‘come down ’ as from one of its higher 
horns to address the people. Its situation is central both to the 
peasants of the Galilean hills, and the fishermen of the Galilean 
lake, between which it stands, and would therefore be a natural 
resort both to ‘JesUs and His disciples,’ when they retired for 
solitude from the shores of the sea, and also to the crowds who 
assembled ‘from Galilee, from Decapolis, from Jerusalem, from 
Judaea, and from beyond Jordan.’ None of the other mountains 
in the neighbourhood could answer equally well to this description, 
inasmuch as they are merged into the uniform barrier of hills 
round the Lake ; whereas this stands separate—‘ the mountain ’ 
which alone could lay claim to a distinct name, with the exception 
of the one height of Tabor, which is too distant to answer the 
requirements.” 

It was on these horns also that the last great battle of the 
Crusaders took place. A strange comment this on the Beatitudes ! 
The first and best account of this famous battle was published by 
Dr. Robinson. Enough for me to tell, that on the oth of July, 
1187, the army of noble knights, 2000 in all, with 8000 followers, 
drew up in order of battle around the Horns of Hattin to meet the 
brave and generous Saladeen. The Crusaders had behaved in a 
most treacherous manner to the Moslems, and had grossly broken 
their treaty with them. Saladeen was more righteous than they. 
They carried as their rallying banner the true cross from Jeru¬ 
salem ; but the Moslems had its justice on their side, though not 


















258 


EASTWARD. 


its wood. After days of suffering and after many gross military 
mistakes, the Crusaders found themselves terribly beaten, and all 
that remained of them on the evening of this awful battle-day 
gathered on and around the Horns of Hattin. King Guy of 
Lusignan was the centre of the group ; around him were the 
Grand Master of the Knights Templars, Raynaid cf Chatillon, 
Humphrey of Turon, and the Bishop of Lydda, the latter of whom 
bore the Holy Cross. All at last were slain or taken prisoners, 
and the Holy Land was lost. Few know these Crusaders’ names 
now, or care for them. They were famous in their day, and had 
their ballads and lady-loves, and were the admired of many a 
pilgrim. But they represented an age that was passing away, for 
it had done its work in the world. Yet who can see with indif¬ 
ference the spot where that storm of battle roared, amid the 
gleaming of axes, the flashing of swords, the streaming of banners, 
the loud cries and yells of victory or despair, and know that it was 
the burial-day of the Crusaders, and the triumph for a time of the 
Moslem, without stopping his horse, gazing on the scene, sighing, 
meditating, and then—alas for the bathos as well as the pathos of 
human nature !—probably lighting his cigar. 

We rode along the upland ridge which ends in a gentle ascent 
leading to the summit of the hills that form the western side of 
Tiberias, and rise about 1000 feet above its waters. We thought 
that we would have had time to ascend this height and look down 
from it upon the whole Lake. But the distance to it was greater 
than we anticipated, and so, descending the steep sides of the hill, 
we gained the ordinary track which leads round its base to 
Tiberias. We soon came in sight of the Lake, and thus had 
another dream of our life realised ! Passing round the town, with 
its many ruins, few palms, and great poverty, we reached our tents, 
which we found delightfully pitched on the shore of the Lake, and 
at a safe and pleasant distance from the town. 

The first impressions made upon me by the scenery of the Lake 

















TIBERIAS, 











































































































































































































: 





v* . 











































SAMARIA TO TIBERIAS. 


259 


of liberias are very easily described. Visibly it was but a lake, 
and “ nothing more.” The east and west shores possess very 
different characters. The eastern shore has the same aspect as 
that of the Dead Sea—the same kind of terraced look, as if caused 
by a series of volcanic upheavings, at long intervals.* The 
western shore is decidedly Scotch, owing, I presume, to its 
trap (?) as well as its limestone. Its rounded hill-tops and 
broken grass-covered slopes certainly wore to me an old familiar 
look, recalling the hills of Moffat,- or those round many of the 
Scotch lakes. 

The desolation of the shores of the Lake is another feature 
which at once strikes us. We see no trees—no white specks of 
houses—no trace of life—but a dead monotony without any variety 
of outline to give picturesque interest. The Lake is about fourteen 
miles long, six to seven broad at its centre, and five at Tiberias. 
Yet there is no town on its shores but this ruined Tiberias ; and 
so wholly given up to the lawless Bedouin is its eastern side that 
there is danger in landing there unless under the protection of 
some chief, to whom liberal backsheesh must be paid. Yet this 
Lake was in our Saviour’s days one of the busiest scenes in Pales¬ 
tine, with a dozen or more flourishing towns on its shores, gay 
palaces, giving to it the air of wealth and splendour, and a thriving 
traffic enlivening its waters. As Dr. Stanley remarks, “ In that 
busy stir of life were the natural elements out of which His future 
disciples were to be formed. Far removed from the capital, 
mingled, as we have seen, with the Gentile races of Lebanon and 
Arabia, the dwellers by the Sea of Galilee were free from most of 

* The view of Tiberias given by Roberts in his “ Sketches of the Holy Land,” 
does not recall to me a single feature of the scene except the sweep of the bay in 
the foreground. In everything save buildings Roberts is wofully inaccurate. I 
have seen no photograph or drawing which gives any correct idea of the shores of 
the Lake of Tiberias such as Hunt gives of the eastern side of the Dead Sea in his 
picture of “ The Scapegoat.” 


< 










260 


EASTWARD. 


the strong prejudices which in the south of Palestine raised a bar 
to His reception. ‘The people’ in ‘the land of Zabulon and 
Nephthalim, by the way of the sea beyond Jordan, Galilee of 
the Gentiles,’ had ‘ sat in darkness ; ’ but from that very cause 
‘ they saw ’ more clearly ‘ the great light ’ when it came : ‘ to them 
which sat in the region and the shadow of death,’ for that very 
reason‘light sprang up’ the more readily. He came to ‘preach 
the Gospel to the poor,’ to ‘ the weary and heavy laden ’—to ‘ seek 
and to save that which was lost.’ Where could He find work so 
readily as in the ceaseless toil and turmoil of these teeming villages 
and busy waters ? The heathen or half-heathen ‘ publicans ’ or 
tax-gatherers would be there, sitting by the lake side ‘ at the 
receipt of custom.’ The ‘ women who were sinners ’ would there 
have come, either from the neighbouring Gentile cities, or cor¬ 
rupted by the license of Gentile manners. The Roman soldiers 
would there be found quartered with their slaves, to be near the 
palaces of the Herodian princes, or to repress the turbulence of 
the Galilean peasantry. And the hardy boatmen, filled with the 
faithful and grateful spirit by which that peasantry was always 
distinguished, would supply the energy and docility which He 
needed for His followers. The cojhous fisheries of the lake now 
assumed a new interest. The two boats by the beach ; Simon and 
Andrew casting their nets into the water ; James and John on the 
shore washing and mending their nets ; the ‘toiling all the night 
and catching nothing; ’ ‘ the great multitude of fishes so that the 
net brake;’ Philip, Andrew, and Simon from ‘Bethsaida’ the 
‘ House of Fisheries ; ’ the ‘ casting a hook for the first fish that 
corneth up; the ‘ net cast into the sea, and gathering of every 
kind ’—all these are images which could occur nowhere else in 
Palestine but on this one spot, and which from that one spot have 
now passed into the religious language of the civilised world, and 
in their remotest applications, or even misapplications, have con¬ 
verted the nations and shaken the thrones of Europe.” 









SAMARIA TO TIBERIAS. 


261 


The town of Tiberias is not certainly very lively to look at, 
though its insect-life has obtained a world-wide notoriety. I 
never entered it, as I more and more felt that any supposed gain 
to my stock of information from the spectacles of filth and poverty 
which I knew it contained would only be a 1 vss to me in seeking 
to realise the holy past. I therefore saw its walls only, and these 
were so shakeu, cracked, and crumbled by the great earthquake 
which occurred in 1857, that their chief interest consists in the 
visible effects of that fearful earth-heaving. The present town is 
comparatively modern. The ancient one was built by that Herod 
who “ feared John ” the Baptist, “ knowing that he was a just man 
and a holy, and observed him ; and when he heard him, he did 
mamy things, and heard him gladly.” Yet he murdered him. It 
was this same sensual and superstitious tyrant to whom Jesus, 
when He met him face to face for the first time on the day of His 
crucifixion, preached the awful sermon of silence; for Herod 
“questioned with Him in many words, but He answered him 
nothing! ” The ruins of the old city are scattered over the space 
between the hills and the Lake to the south, as far as the hot 
baths. Minsrled with the shells on the shore are innumerable 
small bits of what had formed mosaic pavements. We easily 
gathered many specimens. 

We had hardly reached our tents and got settled in them when 
a boat loaded with Jews, pulled past us from the baths to the 
town. The number of people in it sunk it to the gunwale, re¬ 
minding us oddly enough of the little boats and tall forms which 
are represented in Raphael’s cartoon of “ The Miraculous Draught 
of Fishes.” A number of men were standing in it singing and 
clapping their hands in chorus. It was a rather joyous scene,—a 
rare thing in these parts. We were told that it was a wedding 
procession. 

There are only two boats on the lake, and we sent a messenger 
to the town to secure one of them for us after dark, requesting 











262 


EASTWARD. 


that some fishermen with their nets would accompany it. For 
other reasons than they could conjecture, we were anxious to “go 
a fishing.” They came accordingly, when the stars and moon were 
out in the sky. Friends who had travelled with us from Jeru¬ 
salem accompanied us, and we rowed out on the Lake. Few words 
were spoken, but each had his own thoughts, as these rough men 
cast out their nets for a draught, wholly ignorant of other fisher¬ 
men who long ago had done the same. They were thinking only 
of backsheesh, and possibly of our folly in giving it, the chances of 
getting anything where we let down the net being so small. It is 
unnecessary to suggest the memories which arose as the net was 
dropped in the calm sea rippling under the moonlight; or as, after 
encircling a wide space for our prey, we “ caught nothing.” Were 
Peter and the sons of Zebedee, and the other Apostles, all of whom 
were chosen on the shores of this Lake, just such men as these ? 
Were they such “ earthen vessels,” made rich only by the treasures 
of grace with which the Lord filled them day by day through 
His divine teaching ? And if not so supernaturally educated 
and upheld, how have such men taught the world, become 
famous, and given names to the innumerable places of Christian 
worship which have been in all lands called after St. Peter, 
St. James, St. John ? The Divine Spirit alone, who filled the 
man Christ Jesus, could have transfigured commonjdace fishermen 
and publicans into Apostles, and made a commonplace lake a 
theatre of wonders. 

We bathed in the Lake. I mention this otherwise trifling fact, 
as it accidentally made us aware of the singular distance to which 
sounds are conveyed along this shore. Our party had scattered 
themselves for convenience, and I was alone, when my friends 
began to converse at a considerable distance from me. I was 
astonished beyond measure when, considering the space between 
us, I heard what was spoken in the tones of ordinary conversation. 
This induced us to continue the experiment of talking, which 















SAMARIA TO TIBERIAS. 


263 


ended in our conviction that, making all allowance for the well- 
known fact of sound being conveyed by water, we had never 
known any place where the tones of the voice could be so far 
heard. Our words sounded as in a “whispering gallery.” It was 
evident that on this shore a vast multitude might be addressed 
with perfect ease. Tiberias is 400, some say 600, feet below the 
level of the sea, and its banks are high. Does this account for 
the clear reverberations ? 

This Lake is, without question, the most interesting in the 
whole world. There is no part of Palestine, not excepting Jeru¬ 
salem even, which is more associated with our Lord’s life and 
teaching. Yet it is impossible to fix on a single spot here, as on 
the Mount of Olives or at Jacob’s Well, and affirm with certainty 
that there Jesus stood and spoke. His steps cannot be discerned 
upon the deep ; we only know that His holy feet walked over 
these waters, and that His commanding voice calmed their stormy 
waves. He had walked and taught on many places along the 
broad beach which stretches between the hills and the sea ;—but 
where, we cannot tell ! The silence of those lonely hills was often 
broken by His prayers at night, but God’s angels alone know the 
spots where He uttered His “ strong supplications,” or those which 
He watered with His tears. 

Opposite Tiberias is the Wady Fik, with its ancient tombs near 
the road leading to the famous stronghold of Gamala, and with 
steep hills descending into the Lake. This is generally admitted 
to have been the place where our Lord healed the Gadarene 
demoniac,—a narrative which reveals at once man’s spiritual and 
physical misery when possessed by evil; his weakness in attempt¬ 
ing to free a brother from such tyranny ; the gracious power of 
Jesus, Lord of the unseen world, in casting out the evil spirit ; the 
blessed results visible in the man himself, sitting “ clothed, and in 
his right mind,” at the feet of Jesus; the wise and loving work 
given the restored man to do, “ Go to thine own house, and show 
















264 


EASTWARD. 


what things the Lord hath done to thee ; ” and the overflowing of 
grateful love which impelled him to proclaim to the whole city the 
glad tidings of a deliverer from Satan. 

Seated on the shore of the Lake, one naturally asks, where did 
that memorable scene occur recorded in the last chapter of St. 
John’s Gospel ? If ever a narrative shone in its own light of 
Divine truth, it is this one. Its simplicity and pathos, and its 
exquisite harmony with all we know and believe of Jesus, invest it 
with an intei'est which must ever increase with its study. The 
whole of the memorable scene comes before us as we ponder over 
the events of those few days :—the weary night of toil, foreshadow¬ 
ing the labours of the fishers of men—the unexpected appearance 
of the stranger in the shadow of early dawn—the miraculous 
draught of fishes, a prophecy of future ingatherings to the Church 
of Christ—the instinctive cry of the beloved Apostle, “ It is the 
Lord ”—the leap of Peter into the sea at the feet of his Master— 
the humble meal, with such a company as has never met on earth 
again—the reverential silence first broken by our Lord—the thrice 
repeated question addressed in righteousness and love to him who 
had thrice denied Him—the all in all of that question, which 
involved the essential principle of Christian love, “Lovest thou 
me ?”—the all in all of the command, which involved the essential 
rule of Christian practice, “Follow thou me”—the duty of those 
anxious about others shown by the reply to the inquiry, “ What 
shall this man do ? ” “ What is that to thee ? follow thou me ! ” 

—the announcement of a martyr’s death made to him, and to him 
only, who, from fear of death, had denied his Lord, conveying the 
blessed assurance that, even in extremis, Peter would glorify Him ; 
—and the lesson taught to the Church of the untrustworthiness 
of even apostolic traditions, seeing that in the very lifetime of 
the Apostles a false tradition had gone abroad regarding the 
death of St. John, the true story being carefully reported by the 
Apostle himself:—all this, and more than words can express, is 









SAMARIA TO TIBERIAS. 


265 


vividly recalled as we sit on this shore; yet it is in vain that we 
ask, On what precise sput did these events take place ? 

But there is no real cause of sorrow in our ignorance of such 
localities. The places where Jesus lived and taught were de¬ 
nounced by Him in terrible words. These words have been ful¬ 
filled, and the ruins, or rather the complete obliteration, of Caper¬ 
naum once exalted to heaven, and of Chorazin and Bethsaida, only 
typify the ruin of the souls of those who in any place receive not 
the truth in the love of it. Yet the truth itself remains to us, quite 
independently of the mere accidental circumstances of time and 
place in which it was first spoken ; and the words of Jesus, uttered 
in a few minutes, will ever remain the salt of the earth and the 
light of the world. The “Peace, be still,” will calm many a storm ; 
“ It is I, be not afraid,” will bring strength to many an anxious 
soul; “ Lovest thou me?” will search many a heart; “Follow 
thou me ” will direct many a pilgrim. The world will for ever be 
influenced, and the Church of God nourished, by the teaching 
given beside these waters ;—by “ the sermon on the mount; ” the 
parables of “the sower,” “the tares,” the “treasure hid in the 
field,” the “ merchant seeking goodly pearls; ” and by the lectures 
on “ formality ” (Matt. xv. 1), “ faith ” (John vi. 22), and on 
“humility” “forbearance and “brotherly love” (Mark ix. 33). 

The day we spent at Tiberias was Good Friday, and though w T e 
Presbyterians keep no day specially “ holy ” except the Lord’s day, 
yet knowing how many brethren “ esteem this day above another ” 
and “regard it unto the Lord,” we remembered with them the 
great event, which is dear to us all, as being the life of the world. 
We could not forget that it was near this district that He “ began 
to show to His disciples how He must suffer many things of the 
chief priests and scribes, be killed, and rise from the dead on the 
third day;” and that when Peter began, in his ignorance, to rebuke 
Him, He taught those precious lessons of self-denial which every 
Good Friday should recall as its practical teaching to all of us. 


M M 













XI. 


OUT OF PALESTINE. 

-♦- 

On our march to Safed on Saturday morning, we again passed 
the town of Tiberias, and crossed the slope of the steep hill that 
descends to the portion of the lake beyond it. This promontory 
is the southern boundary of the famous plain of Gennesareth, 
which is three or four miles long and about one broad, and skirts 
the north-west corner of the lake. In all Palestine there are no 
three miles more interesting. The richness of the plain itself 
cannot be surpassed, though it is only partially and poorly 
cultivated by a few oppressed and miserable-looking armed 
peasants. Yet the glory of its vegetation, and the splendour of 
its flowering shrubs, suggest a vast “ hothouse,” whose walls have 
disappeared, but whose precious exotics remain to beautify the 
earth. Its tropical heat, the excellence of its alluvial soil swept 
down from neighbouring hills throughout long ages, the streams 
of living water that flow through it, sufficiently account for its 
luxuriant fruitfulness. It is bordered by hills of picturesque form, 
imposing height, and varied outline. A noble gorge (Wady el 
Hymam), with precipitous rocks, descends in one place, while 
others less wild open their green sides and pour in their fresh 
streams ; and the mountain mass topped by Safed rises 3000 feet 
above all. On this plain, too, and along a line of about seven 
miles north from Midjel, were those populous and thriving cities 
with whose names we are so familiar, and where such busy and 
momentous hours of our Lord’s life on earth were spent. The 

















OUT OF PALESTINE 


267 


sites of none of them have been certainly fixed,* with the exception 
of that of Magdala—whose name of Midjel is preserved in the 
present miserable cluster of huts at the very entrance to the plain, 
and which is for ever associated with her who was delivered from 
a mysterious possession of seven devils, and became full of love 
and devotedness to Jesus. But I have no doubt that with more 
time and better means of investigation, every site on the plain 
could be accurately determined. As it is, however, we know 
that within the space of a very few miles those lively and bustling 
cities described in the Gospel narrative once flourished ; and we 
can to some extent restore, by the power of fancy, guided by 
history, the scenes which make this plain and its shore the most 
famous in the world. 

Passing a stream above Khan Minyeh (the Capernaum of 
Bobinson and others), we began the long and steep ascent to 
Safed, along a path disclosing views really beautiful, and in some 
places actually grand, as in the Wady Leimun, where the preci¬ 
pices attain a height of 700 or 800 feet. 

An hour or so before reaching Safed, we were overtaken with 
such a deluge of rain as would have surprised even Glasgow and 
the west of Scotland. It combined the “pouring down in buckets” 
of England, with the “ even down-pour ” of Scotland. Where had 
our muleteers encamped ? Were our tents floated off, or were 
they only soaked with water, and our beds and bags and port¬ 
manteaus reduced to a state of pulp ? Hadji Ali, anticipating the 
worst, wisely suggested that we should proceed at once to the 
only house in the city where we were likely to get shelter and 
tolerable accommodation on fair terms. It was the Austrian 
Consul’s. We consented to enter any ark, if we could only get 
out of the deluge. So for the Consul’s we made, with dripping 

* I do not attempt to enter on the question of sites, discussed so fully by 
Robinson, Stanley, Thomson, Wilson, Porter, Buchanan, and others ; I must refer 
my readers to their works for full and ample information on the point. 


















268 


EASTWARD. 


horses, dripping hats, dripping clothes, and dripping noses. We 
entered the city by the channel of what seemed to be the common 
sewer rushing like a mountain rivulet, and halted at the rough 
steps which led to the door of a house, whose outward appearance 
was characterised by a humble disregard of all pretence to archi¬ 
tecture, beyond what was actually needed to place one rough 
stone upon another, leaving spaces for a door and a few small 
windows. The chamber into which we were ushered was suffi¬ 
ciently cool. It had stone floors and stone-vaulted roof, but no 
furniture, save a Consular coat-of-arms, suspended on the wall, and 
bearing an eagle with two heads, which, by the way, seemed much 
more puzzled, distracted, and stupid than any eagle with only one 
head I had ever seen. We found that, although our tents were 
soaked, our luggage and beds were safe. So in a short time we 
managed to give our vault some signs of life and comfort. Another 
room into which ours opened was a kitchen—that is, it had a 
large chimney, and was full of smoke. Here Hadji and Nubi 
spread their mats and cooked our victuals, making themselves and 
us equally comfortable. Most thankful were we for our stone 
retreat, and not the less so when Consul Mierolowski presented 
himself, and proved to be a simple-hearted, frank, thoroughly 
kind man. He was delighted to let his lodgings to us, and 
thankful for the storm which had driven us his way. He is the 
only Christian in the place, and very seldom sees any civilised 
Europeans. Travellers, in ordinary circumstances, live in their 
tents, and pitch them outside the town, passing him by. Speaking 
of the rain, he comforted us by remarking, in an offhand, consular, 
and statistical way, that an earthquake was due about this time, 
as they generally come periodically, and the state of the atmo¬ 
sphere was an unmistakeable warning. There had been a shock, 
moreover, three days before, which had made all the inhabitants 
rush out of their houses ; and it was apt to repeat itself, lie said, 
on the third day. We looked at the vaulted roof and stone walls, 













OUT OF PALESTINE. 


269 


but said nothing. Earthquakes, the reader must understand, 
have been a familiar subject of conversation in Safed since 1837, 
when from two to three thousand persons perished in a few 
minutes. The houses circling the hill—like the terraces of the 
Tower of Babel in the old Bible pictures—then fell pell-mell on 
each other, crushing Jew and Mahometan into one mass of dead 
and dying. But as the Consul in announcing the probable return 
on this day, not necessarily of such an earthquake as would 
destroy the “ Schlupwinkel,” as he called Safed, but of such a 
tremor or shock as might throw us out of our beds—asked a 
light for his cigar, exclaiming when a few damp lucifers refused 
their light, “ Tausend donnerwetter, noch einmal! ” his coolness 
made us pluck up courage and think of dinner. 

The Consul dined with us, and was both intelligent and com¬ 
municative, his German being very good. He entertained us with 
stories about the Jews, and the conduct of the Turkish officials 
towards them, and towards all whom they can swindle or oppress. 
“ For.” as he remarked, “ these fellows who govern here, such as 
Abdul Kerim Effendi, or Moodir Bey, know not how long they 
may be in circumstances to make money. An intrigue by anyone 
who has a larger purse to bribe the bigger purses, may take the 
prey out of their hands ; so they must pluck and eat it as rapidly 
as possible. If they only gather and remit the amount of taxes 
which they bargained for, good ; all above that sum which they 
can cheat the miserable people out of, or force from them, is so 
much gain to their own pockets.” 

“ For example ?” I said. 

“ For example ? Well. A Jew not long ago bought a piece of 
ground here, and began to erect a house upon it. The Turkish 
official sent for him and told him, that one of the workmen had 
brought to him a bone, dug up accidentally from the ground. It 
was evident therefore that some true believer had been buried 
there, and that the house of a Jew could not possibly be erected 









270 EASTWARD. 


on so holy a spot. The Jew must stop the building. ‘And lose 
all my money ! ’ pleaded poor Moses in vain. But Moses knew 
his man, and expressing his deep regret for the mistake which he 
had so unintentionally committed, begged to know if a fine, say 
of 1000 piastres (that is, a bribe of course to the official) for his 
sin, would be a sufficient atonement ? The official replied that he 
would consider. Having made up his mind to pocket the money 
and his orthodoxy, he forthwith got a stone cut with a cross upon 
it, and this he ordered to be buried in the supposed Mahometan 
graveyard. The 1000 piastres being paid in the meantime by the 
Jew, the Turk assembled some of the orthodox Gentiles along 
with the orthodox Jews, and expressing his doubts regarding the 
Mahomtean origin of the bone, and his sincere wish to do justice 
to the Jew, suggested that they should dig' and examine the earth 
with care. Soon the stone with the cross was exhumed. ‘ Ah ! ’ 
said the Turk, ‘I rejoice ! It has been a Christian burial place : 
and what care you or I for the dogs ? Proceed with your 
building !’ ” 

The Consul described the Jews as being sunk to the lowest 
point of morality. Here let me remind the reader that there are 
in Palestine four cities called “ holy ” by the Jews;—Hebron, 
Jerusalem, Tiberias, and Safed. In each there has been a school 
of Jewish learning, which produced some great scholars—men 
whose names are famous in every synagogue, aud some of whom, 
such as Maimonides, whose tomb is outside Tiberias, are known 
to all students. Now the longer one lives in the world the more 
is he disposed to make exceptions to any generalisation affecting 
the character of any whole party, class, or sect. But, not forgetting 
this, I must admit that it is more than likely, from the circum¬ 
stances in which the Jews of Palestine are placed, that they are, 
as a whole, veiy degraded. They live chiefly on the charity of 
their brethren in Europe, to whom appeals are annually made by 
men appointed for the purpose—and who receive a “consideration” 




OUT OF PALESTINE. 


271 


/ 

in the way of per centage on their collections. This of itself is 
a strong temptation on the part of the recipients to he idle, lazy, 
and suspicious; and on the part of the Rabbis, who collect and 
distribute the alms, to be tyrannical and dishonest. Besides this, 
according to a principle of the Turkish Government, each reli¬ 
gious persuasion, other than Mahometans, are allowed to manage 
their own affairs—their officials enjoying the power of life and 
death over those subject to them in ecclesiastical matters. This 
system saves trouble to the Government, which would derive no 
profit from saving men’s lives, far less from executing justice. 
Thus it happens that the Jews in Palestine are, as far as we could 
learn, very fanatical and degraded—the Rabbis ruling with a rod 
of iron, or of pickle. 

The Consul gave us some facts touching the morality of the 
Rabbis, the truth of which he solemnly vouched for as having come 
under his own eye ; but they are far too terrible and disgusting to 
be told in these pages.* Of their oppressions and robberies, I may, 
however, give one or two instances. It is the law, we were given 
to understand, of the Jewish community, that any money which 
enters a holy city belongs to the Rabbis on the death of its 
possessor. Now an Austrian Jew, with his son, had lately come, 
in bad health, to try the virtue of the baths at Tiberias. Feeling 
worse, he removed to the town of Tiberias itself, where he died. 
He left a considerable sum of money in a belt round his waist, 
of which his son and heir took possession. “ It is ours ! ” said the 
Rabbis, “ for he died in a holy city, and his personal property is 
thereby consecrated to holy purposes.” “It is mine!” answered 

* One terrible story was to the effect that the punishment of death had been 
inflicted on a Spanish Jewess the day before we reached Safed, for a crime in which 
one of the Rabbis who tried and condemned her was himself notoriously implicated. 
We begged the Consul to make further inquiries on this subject. This he did, 
assuring us that all he heard was confirmed by an intelligent Jew who, though 
he hated the proceeding, feared to speak. Such is the reign of terror. 















272 


EASTWARD. 


the son, “ for I am his lawful heir by the laws of my country.” 
The Rabbis urged, expostulated, threatened, bullied, cuffed,—but 
all in vain. “ Refuse,” they said, “ and we won’t bury your father, 
but shall cast his body into a cellar.” The son remained obdurate. 
“You must, then,” said the Rabbis, “ lodge with your father,”— 
and they locked him up in the cellar, in hot suffocating weather, 
with his father’s dead body ! Next day he w r as taken out, but 
still refusing obedience, he was seized and robbed of all he had. 
He then fled, and, as an Austrian subject, cast himself for pro¬ 
tection on the Consul, who got him safely and speedily conveyed 
out of the country, where he ran the risk of being assassinated for 
daring to rebel against the Rabbis. The Consul was at this time 
engaged in seeking to get redress. 

Mr. Rogers, our well-known and excellent Consul at Damascus, 
who was formerly in Safed and Jerusalem, informed me afterwards 
that, upon claiming the property of a British Jew who died at 
Jerusalem, for the behoof of his family in England, burial of the 
body was refused by the Rabbis until the property was acknow¬ 
ledged to be theirs. This Mr. Rogers resisted, and determined to 
get the body buried himself. But when about to lower the Jew 
into his grave, in the Valley of Jehoshaphat, so hot a fire was 
opened on the burial party from concealed foes on both sides of 
the valley, that they had to fly for their lives, and secure a strong 
Turkish guard before they could accomplish their purpose ! 

Another story, and I am done. One of the Rabbis in Safed got 
a false key for the treasury from which the small weekly allowance 
to the “ saints ” is distributed, and daily helped himself from it. 
He was detected in the act by the daughter of the treasurer, but 
she allowed him to escape on the promise of his resigning to her 
the blessed privilege of the seat in heaven which he as a Rabbi 
was entitled to. The girl was grateful for such a prospect of pro¬ 
motion after death. But soon after, he was detected at his old 
practices by her mother, who was ignorant of his previous delin- 














OUT OF PALESTINE. 


273 


quency. He then offered her also his seat in heaven, but for some 
reason it was declined, and she denounced him to her husband. 
The affair was finally settled by the honoured Rabbi being com¬ 
pelled to satisfy the people whom he had robbed, by publicly 
giving up to them as a free gift—to be divided as Providence 
might direct—his seat in heaven ! It must have been a large 
one. 

Such is the state of the Jews in Palestine. Cannot the respected 
and intelligent Jews of Europe and America try to remedy this? 
It is in their hands to refuse supplies, unless for the encourage¬ 
ment of industry. If they must give alms, these should be 
administered by some faithful agent, whom they could trust, and 
not by the Rabbis. This is not a question between Jew and 
Christian, but between right and wrong, honesty and injustice ; 
and if a tithe of what was told me in good faith and by those 
well-informed be correct, surely there are Jews in this country 
who will deal with the matter justly and sensibly. The com¬ 
mercial cities of New York, London, Paris, or Frankfort, could 
very soon revolutionise for good the “ holy ” cities of Hebron, 
Jerusalem, Tiberias, and Safed. 

But to return to our Consular conversation. The Consul read 
to us in German an official report made by him to the Govern¬ 
ment regarding the country, and enumerated in detail the several 
villages and towns within his circuit, mentioning the name of 
“ Kaffirnahum.” “ What! ” I exclaimed, “ is there any place here¬ 
about so called now ? That would go far to set at rest a questio 
vexata —the site of Capernaum.” “ Sometimes,” he said, “ it is 
called Tel Hum, but just as often Kaffirnahum, by the Arabs. 
There is no doubt about it.” To determine this fact, I resolved to 
ask him to call in a few natives whom I might examine; but, as it 
was suggested by one of our party that he might misunderstand 
this procedure as if we doubted his word, I did not prosecute 
inquiry in this way. Had I reported on my return home, how- 

N N 

















274 


EASTWARD. 


ever, that a Consul who has for years lived within a ride of three 
hours of Capernaum, had assured me that Kaffirnahum was always 
applied to an old site by the peasants who resided on the spot, 
such evidence would seem conclusive. Yet from subsequent con¬ 
versations at Beyrout with Dr. Thomson, author of “ The Land 
and the Book,” and with Mr. Rogers, our Consul at Damascus, 
formerly, as I have said, Consul in Safed, I am persuaded that the 
worthy Austrian was mistaken, and that neither Tel Hum nor any 
other place on the shore of the Lake of Tiberias is now called 
Kaffirnahum by the native population. 

The Consul mentioned what, if true—and on inquiry I did not 
hear it contradicted—would be interesting, namely, that Safed and 
the district immediately around it is called Canaan by the natives, 
who often speak of their “going to” or “coming from Canaan” 
when met journeying to or from the district of Safed. If this on 
further inquiry be found correct, may it not possibly account for 
the name of “ Simon the Canaanite ?” 

The day on which we rested at Safed was Easter Sunday, and 
we had divine service, attended both by English and American 
friends, who had more or less travelled with us from Jerusalem. 
In the afternoon we walked up to the ruins of the Crusader Castle 
of Safed, which immediately overhangs the town. The great 
earthquake shook and overturned even its rock-like walls, and 
completed the destruction which the Turks and Time had long 
since begun. The evening was glorious. A holy Easter calm 
rested on mountain, plain, and sea. The view, too, was magnifi¬ 
cent ; and the thought that this was almost our last look at 
Palestine, deepened the feeling of sadness with which we gazed on 
the scene which was so holy to us all. To the south we saw Tabor, 
and Gilboa, and Hermon ; and beyond them, the hills of Samaria. 
To the west, the long ridge of Bashan lined the sky, dotted with 
the characteristic moundlike remains of extinct volcanoes. Be¬ 
neath us, 3000 feet down, lay the sea of Tiberias, calm as a mirror, 



















OUT OF PALESTINE. 


275 


shining from its northern end onwards to its southern, where we 
saw the long depression of the Ghor leading to the Dead Sea. 
The plain of Gennesareth, and the shore on which Capernaum, 
Chorazim, and Bethsaida must have stood, were mapped out below. 
Ihe longer I gazed on this scene and endeavoured in silence to 
receive the spirit which it breathed, the present became like a 
dream, and the dreamlike past became present. We came away 
praising God for His mercy in giving us such an Easter day ; and 
praising Him still more for giving an Easter day to the whole 
world by which we are “ born again to a living hope by the resur¬ 
rection of Christ from the dead.” Next morning we began the day’s 
journey that was to take us out of Palestine. 

The night after leaving Safed we encamped at Maas. The first 
portion of our journey was through scenery, not only far surpassing 
anything we had seen in Palestine, but such as would attract 
attention and excite admiration if seen amidst the glories of 
Switzerland itself. The road which we followed during part of 
the day passed through extensive forests, luxuriant in spreading 
foliage and carpeted with brilliant flowers, revealing nooks of 
beauty that reminded me of the natural woods clothing some of 
our Highland hills and glens. There were many devious and 
perplexing paths, one of which was followed by our ardent flower- 
gatherer, and which, perhaps for the first time in his life, led him 
astray. It was some time before he was recovered by the habitual 
wanderer, Meeki. We rode along the summit of a ridge running 
north and south. Suddenly, when emerging from the forest into 
one of its open glades, a scene of great beauty burst upon us. 
The ridere on which we stood descended for at least 2000 feet in a 
series of plains, green with crops, and clothed with underwood ; 
until the hill-side rested on the dead flat valley which extends 
for twenty miles from the Lake of Tiberias to the roots of 
Hermon. This plain is occupied by a marsh, through which the 
Jordan flows into lake Huleh, or Merom, which lay beneath us 


















276 


EASTWARD. 


far down,—a bright eye, fringed with a broad circle of reeds, like 
eyelashes. 

The situation of the ancient Kadesh Naphtali on the same ridge 
is very beautiful. I do not remember having seen such noble olives 
elsewhere. One which I measured was about 18 feet in circum¬ 
ference. The remains of columns, sarcophagi, and buildings— 
whether Jewish or Roman, I know not—are numerous and impres_ 
sive. Kadesh was one of the cities of refuge, and it was comfort¬ 
ing to think of even the temporary rest and peace that many a 
“ ne’er-do-weel ” got by flying to it. It was also the birth-place of 
Barak ; and nobly did its 10,000 Highlanders second their chief in 
his brave attack on Sisera, when the more comfortable Lowlanders 
kept to their fertile fields or profitable shipping. Joshua also 
penetrated these inland solitudes when he fought the battle of 
Merom—just as the brave Montrose, who, fighting for a worse 
cause, entered our West Highland fastnesses, and by his very 
daring secured the victory. Here, too, Sisera was slain in the 
tent of Jael—a vile, treacherous act, done by a bold, enthusiastic, 
ignorant, well-meaning woman, and an act which we cannot but 
condemn, even when feeling no pity whatever for the brave but 
tyrannical Canaanitish Cateran whose death restored to liberty 
thousands better than himself. 

On our journey this day we passed a settlement of Zouaves 
from Algeria. It is on the side of a most romantic glen, near a 
hill which Dr. Robinson supposes to have been the site of the 
capital of Hazor. It was curious to see this village, inhabited by 
men who have come all this distance from their homes rather than 
submit to the French. It is probable that they had “compromised 
themselves ” by a too great devotion to their country. But I was 
glad to see that they appear to have a most comfortable “ location,” 
and to be very prosperous in sheep, goats, and cattle. 

I must also mention an incident of this day which greatly 
touched us. After passing through a prettily situated village—I 














OUT OF PALESTINE. 


2 77 


forget its name—we came upon a rather excited crowd, composed 
chiefly of women, who were weeping and wringing their hands, as 
they accompanied our cavalcade of muleteers. We discovered, on 
inquiry, that one of Meeki’s servants—unfortunate wretch !—was 
a native ot the village; and that the chief mourners on the 
present occasion were his mother and sisters, who had received 
him with joy, and, as the phrase is, “ pressed him to their bosoms,” 
as he suddenly and unexpectedly appeared in the old home. The 
excitement in the village, the honest tears of the women as they 
gazed after our lad, the eagerness with which relations and old 
companions accompanied him some way on the journey, I confess, 
“ did my heart good.” I was thankful for such evidences of the 
love which exists everywhere (in some hearts) and makes us all 
akin. The object of all this tender solicitude, was a remarkably 
nice youth, whose character might be summed up thus, “good- 
looking, active, and obliging”—a wonderful contrast to Meeki ! I 
heartily expressed my sympathy with him by giving him the hand¬ 
some backsheesh of a paper of good needles, some excellent thread, 
some artistic buttons, and a pair of glittering steel scissors, all of 
which I begged him to present, with my love of course, to his 
amiable and affectionate mother and sisters. The muleteer grate¬ 
fully received, and as they say of the reply to all toasts, eloquently 
acknowledged, the gift, and the manner in which it was conveyed. 

But my subject changes, and with it my thoughts. When oppo¬ 
site Hermon I could not forget that this magnificent mountain, 
which towers over Palestine, and whose pure and eternal snows 
join its landscape to the sky, was the scene of the transfiguration 
of our Lord. 

A true poet has beautifully expressed what until lately was the 
general belief:— 

“ What hill is like to Tabor’s hill in beauty and in fame ? 

There in the sad days of His flesh o’er Christ a glory came; 


















27 <S 


EASTWARD. 


And light o’erflowed him like a sea; and raised his shining brow ; 

And the voice went forth that bade all worlds to God’s Beloved bow. ” * 

But the whole narrative, as is now generally admitted, suggests 
that it was Hermon, and not Tabor, that was for ever consecrated 
by this sublime event. I was thankful, when passing out of Pales¬ 
tine, to be able to associate with this the last and most sublime 
view from its sacred soil, one of the most impressive events which 
occurred in the history of Him whose life is the light of the whole 
land, That transfiguration, like Hermon, almost seems alone in its 
grandeur. It first of all united the old dispensation with the new. 
For Moses the representative of the law, and Elijah the repre¬ 
sentative of the prophets, appeared with Jesus in glory, and thus 
witnessed to Him who had fulfilled both the law and the prophets. 
Their work was finished. The stars which had illumined the old 
night were lost in the blaze of this risen sun. A voice from the 
Shekinah now said, to Jew and Gentile :—“ This is my beloved 
Son —hear Him." Moses and Elias therefore depart, and leave the 
disciples with Jesus alone. Henceforth he was to lie all and all. 
Hermon, as connecting Palestine geographically with the Gentile 
world beyond, was a fitting place for such a Revelation of Jesus, 
in whom alone Jew and Gentile were to become one. The trans¬ 
figuration also united this world with the next. Moses and Elias 
had been in glory for many centuries, yet they remained the same 
identical persons, retained the same names, and spoke the same 
language, as when on earth. A most comforting thought to us! 
For while Christ will “ change our vile bodies, and fashion them 
like his own glorious body,” yet to our human hearts it allays many 
fears, and answers many questionings to know that we shall for 
ever be the same persons ; preserving our individual characteristics 
—all that is imperfect excepted ; retaining jiossibly our old names 


* “ The Devil’s Dream,” by Thomas Aird. 

















OUT OF PALESTINE. 


279 


and old language, as Moses and Elias did; anyhow that we shall 
know prophets and apostles, and our own dear ones, even as we are 
known of them. This thought makes parting from friends en¬ 
durable, “ which else would break the heart.” How soothing to 
be assured that as certain as Jesus on the sides of Hermon conversed 
with Moses and Elias from heaven, and with Peter, James, and 
John from earth, so all who are united to the One Lord are united 
to each other; and that, though we cannot make enduring taber¬ 
nacles here, or abide in any place here below with our friends, 
however dear, we shall yet in spirit, in heaven and earth, live toge¬ 
ther with Christ and His whole Church. The Heath which Christ 
accomplished at Jerusalem, the only subject, as far as we know, of 
converse between Him and those heavenly visitants on this day of 
triumph, is the pledge of this very blessing. And when in leaving 
Palestine a feeling of despondency deepened the fear as to our ever 
joining that grand army, the traces of whose conflicts and triumphs 
we had been following with such eager interest—Hermon once 
more supplied us with comfort, refreshing as its own dews, not only 
from faith in that Heath which He has “ accomplished at Jeru¬ 
salem,” but from the story of that distressed parent, who, disap¬ 
pointed in all other men, had brought his child to Jesus as he de¬ 
scended from the mount, and cried, with mingled hope and doubt, 
“ If thou canst do anything for us, help us ! ” Oh, blessed reply ! 
“ If thou canst believe ! ” As if He had said, There is no barrier 
in me—only in thyself. Believe and live ! Oh, blessed confession 
and prayer, which were accepted and answered :—“ Lord, I believe; 
help thou mine unbelief.” With this prayer in my heart I turned 
away from Hermon though not from its memories. 

Our journey out of Palestine ended as we crossed the Litany. 
This river is as impetuous as a glacier stream, without a calm pool, 
or rippling ford. But we had a good old bridge to cross by, which 
saved us from all danger and trouble. High above to the left, on 
the top of a grand precipice washed by the raging stream, are the 













28o 


EASTWARD. 


magnificent ruins of the Crusaders’ stronghold, Kelat-el-Shukeef 
(Belfort). There is no ruin on Rhine or Danube so imposing. 

We passed the bridge and were out of Palestine ! 

Some of our party ascended to the castle, and came back in 
raptures with the majestic pile itself, and the majestic view from 
its walls. I jogged on with Hadji, and occupied my time in giving 
him what as a mere dragoman he ought, as T told him, to know, 
but which, to my astonishment, he was profoundly ignorant of. 
That was the leading facts of the Bible which make the land so 
interesting to those travellers on whom he depends. He listened 
with great patience, and seemed grateful for the information, won¬ 
dering at the Bible stories connected with the places which we had 
visited together. Let other travellers give similar lessons, and dra¬ 
gomen will thereby become more intelligent and useful; nay, they 
may be able in their turn to instruct travellers who are very igno¬ 
rant of their Bibles, and who do not even take the trouble of 
honestly reading the portions of Scripture referred to ill Murray’s 
accurate pages. 

We encamped at Nabathieyeh the Lower—our next stage after 
Maas. The whole aspect of the country is now changed. Groves 
of mulberries begin to cover the valleys. The houses of the vil¬ 
lages are built more substantially, and with some attempts at art. 
This can be easily accounted for by the fact that the country is be¬ 
yond the region preyed upon by the Arabs of the desert. There 
being here some security for property, there is consequent industry, 
with comparative comfort. 

At no place did our presence attract greater attention than here. 
Most persons go to Damascus by Banias, or pass on to Sidon. The 
tent of the traveller is not so hackneyed then at Nabathieyeh as 
elsewhere. Crowds accordingly gathered round it, sitting in a 
circle three deep, the young in front and the old behind, as if 
gazing on wild beasts from another clime; but all were most civil 




















SIDON, FROM THE NORTH-EAST. 































































































































































OUT OF PALESTINE. 


281 


and orderly. As usual, the musical-box produced the greatest 
excitement and interest, as did also the performance which I 
generally added, on the Jews’ (or jaws’?) harp.* 

I never saw so many perfectly beautiful boys and girls as here. 
And this is especially true of the boys of about ten or twelve years 
of age. The symmetry and elegance of their features, the exqui¬ 
sitely chiselled nose, lips, and chin, and the calm lustrous eyes, 
quite rivetted me. One boy particularly struck us as possessing a 
face quite as ideal as that of him who, in Hunt’s noble picture, 
represents the boy Jesus in the Temple. 

The Turkish governor, in an old shabby surtout, and a shirt that 
seemed to have been washed in pea soup, paid us an official visit; 
and was wonderfully high bred in his whole manner, in spite of his 
garments. He was delighted with some photographs of my chil¬ 
dren, which I showed him with paterfamilias fondness,- and he 
introduced some of his own “ toddling ” young ones to us. I was 
praising their appearance when Hadji told me that he dared not 
translate my words, as they would give offence. Such praises are 
feared as signs of an evil eye. I therefore simply echoed his pious 
wish expressed in regard to myself, that he might have many; 
although for aught I knew he may have had, like myself, almost as 
many as his nursery can well accommodate. We both salaamed, 
however, to the mutual compliment. 

The next day’s journey was not very interesting. . We wound 
down to Sidon, among stupid low hills with nothing worth looking 
at which I can remember. We were glad to hail the old seaport 
at last. As we approached it, the air for a considerable distance 


* The Arabs are easily amused, and seem to have a keen sense of the ludicrous. 
A clever toy, an absurd mask, or whatever excites wonder or laughter in children, 
would stir a whole village, and in most cases be a far better passport for a traveller 
than the Sultan’s firman or ugly revolvers. Laughter and merriment form a 
better and much more agreeable bond of union between the traveller and the 
“ children of the desert,” old and young, than pomposity and powder. 


o 0 














282 EASTWARD. 


was laden with delicious perfume, which in this case we found 
came from orange-trees in full and glorious blossom. I had no idea 
that the odour of any flowers, even those of Araby the blest, could 
be carried so far on the breeze. 

We spread our carpets among the orange-trees for lunch and re¬ 
pose, enjoying the smell and the exquisite fragrance from the white 
masses of blossom overhead. The whole neighbourhood is one 
great garden filled with every kind of fruit-bearing trees—oranges, 
figs, almonds, lemons, apricots, peaches, pomegranates—to nourish 
which abundant streams of water are supplied from Lebanon. Our 
stay unfortunately was short. We had barely time to visit the old 
port, within the long line of the wall and castle which protect it 
from the north. As at Jaffa, the selection of the place as a har¬ 
bour was evident^ determined by a reef of rocks forming a deep 
lagoon within, and defending it from the waves of the outer sea. 
But beyond the usual attractiveness to the eye of everything ori- 
ental, and the old associations of the place, we saw nothing worth 
noticing, though there must be much in the town and neighbour¬ 
hood. There is an efficient branch of the American Syrian Mis¬ 
sion here, labouring among the 5000 inhabitants of the town, and 
also in the upland valleys of the overhanging spurs of the Lebanon. 
It seems a thriving place, and survives in spite of its old wicked¬ 
ness. The sinners, not Sidon, have been destroyed—yet how has 
its former glory passed away ! 

Our camping ground for the night was on the river Damur, 
which occupied us five hours from Sidon. The road from Sidon 
to Beyrout is described in “ Murray ” as being “ one of the most 
wearying rides in Syria.” We did not find it so. The two voices, 
“one of the mountains and the other of the sea,” never were 
silent all the way. The “ Great Sea ” was dashing its billows on 
the sands to our left, along which we often rode, while to our 
right the “ goodly Lebanon ” contributed some of its lower 
ridges broken with rock and stream, and clothed with trees. 





OUT OF PALESTINE. 


283 


I must admit, however, that the route for many hours is, on 
the whole, tame ; and that the traveller who has time at his 
command should branch off to such places as El-Jun, not far 
from Sidon, near which is the old convent which Lady 
Hester Stanhope long occupied as her private lunatic asylum; 
and Deir-el-Kamar, one of the most picturesque villages in the 
Lebanon. We reached our tents about sunset, rather fatigued 
after our ride from Nabathieyeh ; but we enjoyed the luxury 
of a swim in the “ salt sea faeme,” which made us all fresh 
again. 

The scenery of a considerable portion of the road next day on 
our way to Beyrout was extremely fine. The lower ranges of the 
Lebanon running parallel to the sea, with their slopes and glens 
clothed with mulberry and fig trees, and covered by white houses 
and villages high up on their steeps, and with old convents 
crowning all, reminded me of the road along the Riviera, between 
Genoa and Spezzia, and in some places was quite as beautiful. 
After passing through sandy dunes, through large olive groves, 
and an extensive forest of dwarf pines, we entered Beyrout, and 
found ourselves in Basoul’s most comfortable hotel, and once 
more in the region of Boots and Waiter, table d’hote, and civi¬ 
lisation. 

Our party broke up at Beyrout. Our friends Mr. Lundie and 
Mr. Barbour, who had travelled with us from Marseilles, and 
contributed much to our happiness, resolved to visit Baalbek. 
My brother, who had been in the country before, remained at 
Beyrout; while Mr. Strahan and I, whose time was limited, found 
that we could get a glimpse of Damascus—but no more! Hadji 
Ali and the tents therefore passed into the service of our friends, 
and it was not without some feelings of pain that, after settling 
accounts and backsheesh to the satisfaction of all parties, we bade 
our dragoman and suite farewell. The slight clankings of the 
















284 


EASTWARD. 


chain which had heretofore hound us, were forgotten in the mutual 
salaams with which we parted. 

To our surprise, we learned that a French company had en¬ 
gineered an excellent road to Damascus, a distance of about ninety 
miles, and ran on it a well-horsed, well-appointed, comfortable 
diligence! No doubt this was very different from the poetry of 
a tent, and of a long cavalcade of mules and horses winding 
among the mountains of Lebanon, and along its old historic paths. 
But I must confess that the prosaic and much more rapid and 
comfortable mode of travelling was heartily welcomed and appre¬ 
ciated by us. Had we been obliged to depend on Meeki and his 
cavalry, we never could have seen Damascus, and consequently 
would have lost one of the most fascinating scenes in our journey. 

Seated in the coupe, with six strong horses before it to drag us 
up' the Lebanon, we left Beyrout at four o’clock in the morning, 
and arrived at Damascus about five in the evening. What a 
railway is in speed to a diligence, such is a diligence to ordinary 
riding in Syria. The travelling was admirably managed : short 
stages ; good horses ; excellent driving ; resting places at proper 
intervals, where “ meat and drink ” were nicely served, with French 
civility. We had a tolerable view of the country as we jogged 
along, at first slowly, up the steep ascent of the Lebanon for a few 
thousand feet, then in full swing down its eastern slopes, then 
briskly across the flat of the Coele-Syrian plains, then another 
long drag over the shoulder of the Anti-Lebanon, until finally, 
after passing along streams and canals, through cultivated fields 
and rich gardens and orchards, we entered Damascus, with the 
horses trotting, and the whips cracking in a way which reminded 
one of the olden time of the (Lillies and paves of Belgium or 
France. There was nothing Eastern in it. I presume that no 
carriage wheels had until recently marked those hills or valleys 
since the days of the Romans. 

The scenery of the Lebanon is among the finest in the world. 

















OUT OF PALESTINE. 


285 


and has been described in the most enthusiastic terms by all who 
have had time to penetrate its innumerable valleys or gaze on the 
glorious views from its many commanding heights. The pic¬ 
turesque villages and hoary strongholds, the bright verdure, farms, 
corn-fields and pasture lands; the fine wooding, from noblest 
cedars to every fruitful tree, are all worthy of the “ goodly 
Lebanon.” But those who get glimpses only of scenery from the 
prison cell of a coupe, can hardly presume to describe it. What 
we saw was, however, sufficiently interesting and varied to make 
the journey agreeable. The finest view we got was that of 
the, silvery Hermon closing up the Coele-Syrian plain to the 
South. We again crossed the Litany as it rolled on, to foam 
past Kelat-el-Shukeef, and empty itself in the Mediterranean 
near old Tyre. 

Our Damascus hotel—the best “ Laconda ”—combined the com¬ 
fort of the West with the picturesqueness of the East. The inner 
court and the fountains open to the heavens ; the balmy air, 
brilliant bright blue sky, fresh water, flowering plants,—all gave 
it an aspect of comfort and luxury which made it a most welcome 
and unexpected retreat. 

Our first expedition in the morning was to a well-known spot, 
the Wely Nasr, half an hour’s ride from the city. My old ac¬ 
quaintance, Mr. Ferrette, was our guide. Mr. Rogers, the able 
and learned Consul, and the patient, kind friend of every traveller, 
put his horses at our disposal. The Wely Nasr is a spot which 
has been visited by every traveller as affording the view, which, 
once seen, will ever be remembered as the finest of the kind on 
earth. It is a quiet Mahometan chapel, reared on the shoulder 
of the ridge of hills which rises immediately above the town, and 
close to the path by which travellers have for ages entered 
Damascus. By coming in the diligence we lost the impression 
which is made when the whole scene is beheld through an open 
arch which frames the marvellous picture. But although the 


















286 


EASTWARD. 


landscape did not burst thus suddenly upon us, it was, neverthe¬ 
less, far more glorious than we anticipated, in spite of all we had 
read and heard about it. 

The one feature which arrests the eye is that wondrous oasis, 
that exuberant foliage of every hue of green, contributed by 
various tints of olive, walnut, apricot, poplar, and pomegranate. 
This is interspersed with fields of emerald corn, topped here and 
there by the feathery palm, that always witnesses for the clime 
in which it grows ; and with silvery flashes from the streams 
which circulate amidst the “ bowery hollows ” and through every 
portion of this vast garden, covering a space whose circumference 
is thirty miles, though in the pellucid atmosphere it seems to 
embrace but a great park. In the midst of this green sea there 
rise domes and minarets above the half-revealed and far-spreading 
houses and streets, like line-of-battle ships moored in some inland 
harbour; while beyond it all is brown rock or plain, hot and 
sultry-looking, as if beating back in despair the sun’s rays that 
attack it with furnace heat. The gardens begin at the very foot 
of the bare white limestone ridge on which we stand, as the 
green waves of the deep sea roll along a rocky shore. Far in the 
distance and beyond the limit of the verdure, the flat plain 
sweeps to the horizon—here towards Palmyra and Bagdad, there 
to the Hauran, unless where it is broken by barren hills that 
rise above the shimmer, like islands amidst a shoreless ocean. 
It was apparent what gave life to this fruitful spot. Close beside 
us, and at the bottom of a deep gorge to our light, through which 
we had passed in the diligence, the river Barada rushed clear 
and strong; and parallel to it were several narrow deep canals, 
cut out of the rock, which convey the water at different levels to 
the city, gardens, cornfields, and houses, until, having blessed the 
earth and the homes of men, it disappears into the lakes and 
marshes seen in the far distance. 

But it is not alone what the eye sees which gives the charm 

















OUT OF PALESTINE. 287 


to Damascus, but what we know, or what the imagination creates 
from the elements supplied by authentic history. Beautiful as 
the spectacle is, yet how would its glory almost pass away if it 
had no “ charm unborrowed from the eye ! ” We can conceive 
of some city equally beautiful outwardly, erected in a desert, 
whether of Australia or California, and made the capital of 
diggers and men successful in their “ prospecting.” But could 
it ever, in the nature of things, look as Damascus does ? It is 
impossible to separate the glory of any earthly scene from the 
magic charm with which human history invests it; and Damascus 
is the oldest city on the face of the earth. It remains a solitary 

specimen of worlds passed away : it is like a living type of an 

extinct race of animals. It was historical before Abram left 
Mesopotamia. For a period as long as that which intervened 
between the birth of Christ and the Reformation, it was the 
capital of an independent kingdom. For a period as long as 
from the dawn of the Reformation till the present time, the 

kings of Babylon and Persia possessed it. For two centuries 

and a half later the Greeks governed it; the Romans for seven 
centuries more; and since their departure, 1200 years ago, 
Saracens and Turks have reigned here. The mind gets wearied 
in attempting to measure the long period during which Damascus 
has survived, as if it were destined to mark the beginning and 
end of history, to be at once the first and last city in the 
world ! 

It is remarkable, also, how many distant parts of the earth 
are linked to this sequestered and solitary town. It is linked 
to Palestine by many a cruel war. The soldiers of King David 
garrisoned it. Nor can we forget bow, in connection with Jewish 
history, there once passed out of these gardens on his way to 
Samaria a Commander-in-Chief, yet a wretched leper, guided 
to a poor prophet of the Lord in Samaria by a young, unselfish, 
God-fearing Jewish captive, stronger than Naaman in her simple 





288 


EASTWARD. 


faitli and truth ; or how the same man, who went forth with 
talents of gold and silver and goodly raiments as his precious 
treasures, returned with them, but valuing most of all some 
earth from the land whose God had restored him to health ; and 
thinking more of the wild and fierce Jordan than of his own 
Abana and Pharpar. To this Damascus also Elisha, the great 
prophet who had healed Naaman, afterwards came,* when that re¬ 
markable scene occurred in which the prophet, seeing the false 
heart of Hazael that was too false to see itself, “ settled his 
countenance steadfastly, until he was ashamed ; and the man of 
God wept! ” 

Damascus is connected, moreover, with the whole Christian 
world, for somewhere in this plain the Apostle Paul, at that time 
an honest Jewish-Church fanatic, under the strong delusion 
which “ believes a lie,” and thinking he did God a service, was 
journeying to extirpate by the sword a dangerous heresy which 
had arisen. There, beneath a bright noon-day sun, he spoke with 
Christ, and became “ Paul the Apostle,” a name for ever hallowed 
in the heart of the Christian Church. From Damascus in 
later years there went forth another power than his, an army 
which penetrated beyond the Himalayah, and established a 
dynasty at Delhi which, but as yesterday, after revealing the 
true and unchanged spirit of Islam, was swept away by British 
bayonets, so that at this moment the last rays of the sun which, 
rising in Damascus, so long shone in India, is setting in the 
person of the last Mogul, who is a transported convict in the 
Andaman Islands! From Damascus other conquering bands 
poured forth a stream of flashing scimitars and turbaned heads 
along the Mediterranean ; crossed to Europe; and but for the 
“hammer” of Charles Martel, verily a judge in Israel whose arm 
was made strong by a merciful God, the crescent might have 

* 2 Kings viii. 7. 












OUT OF PALESTINE. 


289 


gleamed on the summit of great mosques in every European 
capital. The whole history of the city is marvellous, from the 
days of the soldiers of Babylon to the Zouaves of Paris—from 
early and oft-repeated atrocities committed on its inhabitants by 
successive conquerors down to the late massacre of Christians 
by its own citizens. But, strange to say, we cannot associate one 
great action which has blessed the world with any one born in 
Damascus : the associations are all of idolatry, cruelty, and blood¬ 
shed. Yet Damascus lives on, while the site of Capernaum is 
unknown! Let the traveller review all this strange history as 
he sits at the Wely gazing on the ancient city, and then, ere lie 
goes to rest, himself a small link in this chain stretching into 
the darkness of the past, let him thank Cod that he has seen 
Damascus ! 

We spent a happy day in wandering through the city. I need 
not attempt to describe its famous bazaars. I cannot say that I 
admired them more than those of Cairo, but I thoroughly enjoyed 
them as a theatre exhibiting out-of-the-way life, and as at every 
yard revealing such strange oriental groups of human beings 
gathered out of every tribe, such pictures of form and colour, of 
man and beast, of old fantastic buildings and Arabian-Night- 
looking Courts and Khans, of shops for every sort of ware and for 
every sort of trade ; such drinks, with ice from Lebanon to cool 
them ; such sweetmeats, the very look of which would empty the 
pockets of all the schoolboys in Europe; such antique arms, 
beautiful cloths, dresses, shawls, carpets of every kind and colour, 
as would tempt the fathers and mothers of the boys to follow their 
example;—all this, and more than I can describe, kept me in a 
state of child-like wonder and excitement as I moved through the 
bazaars. 

My old friends the dogs seemed to me to make Damascus their 
capital. I was amused at the table d'hote of the hotel in hearing 
a dispute regarding the number of the canine race in Damascus. 

i’ p 













290 


EASTWARD. 


The question, discussed by two gentlemen who had for years 
resided in the city, was whether the number of dogs amounted to 
200,000, or only 100,000, or 150,000. Some suggested larger 
numbers, but all agreed that 100,000 did not fully represent the 
grand army, the possibility of being a soldier in which so shocked 
the high-minded Hazael. An illustration, moreover, was given 
of Mohammedan custom as applied to dogs. The law is, that any 
one accidentally killing another person must pay a fine as blood- 
money to his relations. But can this law apply to the killing of 
a dog ?—not a Christian dog, who is worthless, but a bazaar dog, 
who is a useful scavenger. It must apply to dogs—so say the 
dogmatic Damascus police—but how ? In this way :—a dog’s 
blood-money is valued at sixteen piastres. Well, the murderer of 
a dog must forthwith report his crime to the police. The district 
in which the dog usually resided is then discovered, and the mur¬ 
derer must forthwith purchase bread with the blood-money; and 
as the dog’s relatives are very many and not easily ascertained, 
he must divide the bread among all the hungry mouths that, 
backed by wagging tails, may wait to receive it. We give this 
illustration of canon, or canine, law as we heard it. 

One object seen in passing along the streets I cannot forget, 
and that was a famous old plane-tree forty feet in circumference. 
There were others less noticeable, but adding beauty and shade 
to the thoroughfares and open paths. 

We went along the dreary and stupid “ Bazaar street,” once 
called “ Straightfor it is more than probable that it represents 
the old street made famous by the history of St. Paul. Yet this 
must have been a stately thoroughfare in the time of the Romans. 
The remains of pillars indicate that a colonnade once ran along 
each side. The old Roman gate in the south wall, by which the 
Apostle probably entered, now opens to one side onlv of the old 
street. The central archway, and the other side-gate, are both 
built up. 















OUT OF PALESTINE. 


291 


Among the “ sights” which engaged our attention was the great 
mosque. It is needless, judging from the light—or darkness— 
which I have myself gathered from minute descriptions of build¬ 
ings, to enter into any details regarding its fine court and cistern, 
its surrounding cloisters, noble pillars, and all the evidences which 
it affords of having been once a grand Christian church. This 
fact is unquestioned. There can, moreover, yet be seen on a 
portion of the old building an inscription in Greek, which fills 
the traveller with many strange thoughts of the past and future, 
as he reads it. Being translated, it is this: “ Thy kingdom, O 
Christ, is an everlasting kingdom, and Thy dominion endureth 
throughout all generations.” 

A much-valued lady friend who had accompanied us during 
portions of the journey in Palestine, visited the mosque along 
with us, guided by the Consul. That we were permitted to 
penetrate into the Holy Place without fear —in spite of some ugly 
looking faqueers from India, who seemed to growl hate out of their 
rags and vermin—indicated a very remarkable change in Islam. 
It arose out of political events which those most affected by them 
could no more understand, than a child can connect the ebb of 
the tide in an inland arm of the sea, with the great ocean beyond 
or with the moon above. A distinguished American Missionary, 
Dr. Thomson, of Beyrout, told me that he had accompanied the 
first British Consul into Damascus on horseback. They were 
protected by a strong guard. Before then every “ Infidel ” had 
been obliged to enter the Holy City bare-headed, and 011 foot! 
Every Christian merchant, though possessing a fortune, was also 
compelled to rise in the presence of his Mohammedan servant! 
Lons 1 after this, and as late as the Crimean War, no one, except 
a Moslem, could enter the great mosque on pain of death. \ et 
so great is the revolution caused either by the power of opinion, 
or by the fear of foreign bayonets, that, as I have said, we walked 
undisturbed through the mosque, simply paying backsheesh 





















EASTWARD. 


a guinea, I think—to oil the consciences of its orthodox guardians. 
What a change is here ! 

We visited what was once the Christian quarter of the town. 
A more impressive sight I never witnessed. Oh how different is 
reading or hearing about any horror from actually witnessing it. 
I often, for example, had heard of slavery, and theoretically loathed 
it. But when a mother was once offered me for sale in America, 
and when, with honest tears, she begged me that if I bought herself 
I would buy her child, round which her arms were entwined, and 
not separate them, what was the burning shame and horror I felt 
for a crime to destroy which millions of money and hundreds and 
thousands of lives have been sacrificed ? And so, I had heard 
with sorrow of this massacre, and of the undying hate of orthodox 
and fanatical Islam. Yet how much more intense was my sense 
of this hate when I saw a large quarter of a great city reduced to 
powdered fragments of stone and lime, and walked through or 
stumbled over street upon street in a chaos of ruin—hearing in 
fancy the loud or stifled cries for mercy, and the unavailing shout 
of desperate defence, from nearly 3000 Christians, who for a fort¬ 
night were being butchered in cold blood by these Mohammedan 
demons ! That fearful massacre was the true expression of Islam, 
the logical application of its principles. From Delhi to Jeddah, 
wherever it dare reveal itself, its spirit is the same. Nor can I 
agree with those who think that this is the last of the massacres. 
The last sacrifice by Islam will be coincident with its last breath ; 
though there are, no doubt, Mohammedans whose hearts practically 
correct their creeds, and who are better than their beliefs. 

But let me pass to more pleasing topics. We visited one or 
two private houses in Damascus, the Consul’s among others, to 
form some idea of the Oriental style of domestic architecture. 
One has no suspicion when passing a common plain wall in the 
street, that on the other side of it may be a splendid- palace. 
Every sign of what is within seems to be carefully excluded, lest 










THE EAST GATE OP DAMASCUS. 
















































































































































































































































































































































OUT OF PALESTINE. 


293 


it should attract the attention of the mob. A small door and 
narrow passage which might conduct to the obscure home of an 
artisan, lead to a dwelling in which any prince might reside. 
Few things struck me so much as the beauty, stateliness, and 
luxury of these houses. In the centre is a large court, floored 
with marble. A fine fountain bubbles up its crystal water, and 
trees fill the air with perfume, and cool the ground with their 
shade. Above is the blue sky, with here and there a distant 
fleecy cloud. Into this court the public rooms open—not by doors, 
but by noble archways. If we pass through one of these archways 
we find ourselves in an apartment with its own marble entrance 
and fine fountain, and three high arches, opening into recesses on 
the right and left and in front. The floors are covered with rugs 
elevated above the level of the court. There are grand divans 
along their sides, with windows of coloured glass, while exquisite 
arabesque ornaments, in purple, blue, and gold, cover the walls 
and high roofs with intricate traceries and richest colour. Behind 
one couch we saw a fall of purest water, cooling the air, and 
passing under the floor to reappear in a fountain below. I have 
never seen any mansions which so fully realise the idea of a 
summer residence of perfect beauty. How much more might be 
made of this style amidst English scenery, and with an English 
family to give light and comfort to the rooms! 

Anxious to overtake the Austrian steamer from Beyrout to 
Smyrna, and finding that we might miss her if we waited for the 
diligence, we resolved to post back during the night. The only 
kind of conveyance which is placed at the disposal of the traveller 
is a four-wheeled waggonette, with roof and curtains, and a seat 
along each side capable of accommodating three persons. We had 
two and sometimes three horses, and were driven by a tall jet- 
black Nubian. The Consul and a few friends saw us off, and 
with kind consideration furnished us with an additional wrapper, 
as night on the Lebanon might be very cold or even very wet. 






















294 


EASTWARD. 


But all looked bright and promising for an hour or so after we 
started. Then however the wind began to rise, until as we faced 
it on the ridge of the Anti-Lebanon it blew a hurricane, and the 
rain fell in torrents. I never was exposed to such a storm. Very 
soon the curtains, which partially sheltered us, were torn into 
ribands, and the roof did not protect us from the rain, which soon 
became sleet, and blew with a fierce and bitter blast through the 
carriage. We had a strong double umbrella, under which we 
sought shelter for our heads as we spread it behind the back of 
the driver ; but soon the umbrella was also shattered and torn. 
My companion, who was not so well rigged as I for the gale, 
began to suffer greatly from the cold ; but as I had fortunately 
some spare clothes in a waterproof bag, I drew a pair of stout 
trousers over his, (and he did not find them too tight !) ; a woollen 
shirt was tied over his head ; worsted stockings were supplied for 
gloves, and with one of the long cushions thrown over him he was 
enabled in this picturesque garb to weather the tempest. The 
Nubian showed marvellous endurance, as he drove bis'two-in-hand 
or three-in-hand for thirteen hours. They were generally fine 
strong cattle, but once or twice they stopped, with a disposition to 
turn tail to the wind, and were with difficulty forced to meet it. 
The Nubian would not “ taste” as we say in Scotland, but was 
thankful to have some brandy poured over his hands when 
benumbed by the snow on the mountain-top at midnight. We 
also, once or twice, when things looked very bad, gave the poor 
fellow some good backsheesh to keep up his heart and spirits. 
Wet, cold, and miserable though we were, yet the wonderful 
appearance of the landscape at sunrise roused us up. We were 
then winding our way over the Lebanon, and looking across the 
Coele-Syrian plain to the ridge of Anti-Lebanon. The sun, with 
a red glare, was breaking through the wild rack of storm-clouds 
which were rolling over the mountains. Above, to the zenith, 
they were black as night, but gradually passed into a dull grey, 














OUT OF PALESTINE. 


295 


and then into purple, that with ragged edges and long detached 
locks of streaming hair, swept along the ground, on which ever 
and anon bright sunbeams lighted up green fields or some bit of 
mountain scenery. Had the forests of all Lebanon been on fire, 
and had their smoke, illumined by their flames, been driven by a 
liu rricane across the fields and hills, the effect could not have been 
stranger or wilder. 

As we came in sight of the Bay of Beyrout, about nine o’clock 
on Sunday morning, we saw evidences of the gale, in a French 
line-of-battle ship with struck masts, rolling her guns under ; while 
the other vessels, with less majesty but with equal discomfort to 
their crews, seemed in danger of rolling their masts over. 

It being thought prudent to delay the sailing of the steamer in 
consequence of the storm, we had a refreshing sleep at the hotel, 
and then spent the evening at the American mission house, where 
I had the happiness of conducting worship, and of meeting bre¬ 
thren with whose names I had been familiar, and whose labours 
for many years have been earnest and full of blessing. Next day 
we visited Dr. Vandyke in his literary den, where we found him 
engaged in bringing to a conclusion his great and learned work, 
the translation into Arabic of the Holy Scriptures. We also visited 
several schools, male and female, and were deeply interested in 
seeing such proofs of eager desire for superior education on the 
part of boys and girls of every class, and of every faith; and with 
the thorough and efficient manner in which this desire has been 
met. The American mission prepared the way, quickened a taste 
for education among the people, and furnished good books and 
good teachers, yet for years found it up-hill work. 

It is the rapid development of commerce, which has been falling 
into the hands of the Christian population, that now compels every 
young man, whether Jew or Greek, Druse, Turk or Maronite, to be 
educated, and to acquire some knowledge of English, French, and 
Italian. The American war, by stimulating the cultivation of 






296 EASTWARD. 


cotton wherever its fibre will grow or labour can be found, has 
helped on education, which in its turn will produce results that 
may lead to the fall of Mohammedanism in Europe at least, and 
to the political supremacy of the Christian races, so long its slaves. 
The education of young women has followed the education of 
young men. Rich Christian husbands, who can marry but one 
wife, must have one who can be an intelligent companion ; “ and 
so on it goes,’’ with wonderful and increasing rapidity. 

The projected Syrian College will, when erected, as I hope it 
shall soon be, complete the work of education. Let me also pre¬ 
sume to express the hope that the learned and admirable native of 
the Lebanon, who is now at the head of the largest and best- 
tauglit school and boarding-house in Beyrout, may find a place in 
the College worthy of his Christian character, talents, and past 
labours. 

But the storm had now moderated, and we had to leave the' 
Syrian shore. The view from the landing-place in the harbour of 
Beyrout has probably been painted by some artist capable of doing 
justice to it; but if not, it is worth the journey to do so. The 
foreground of the harbour, with such studies of form and colour as 
cannot be found in Europe ; the quaint-looking boats, ships, and 
houses; and the glorious Lebanon rising over the ruined castle 
or battery that shuts in the port from the North, form a rare 
subject for a picture of Eastern life and scenery. I could, like 
some romantic lady, have kissed the old land ere I parted from it; 
but satisfied with pocketing a pebble from its shore, I stepped into 
the boat, and with many thanksgivings for the past, exchanged 
Eastward and the Holy Land for Northward and Home! 

Here I must part with my readers, who have been kind euough 
to accompany me “ Eastward.” I told them frankly at the begin¬ 
ning of our intercourse that I had kept no journal, having had no 
intention of ever writing on the hackneyed subject; and I warned 





OUT OF PALESTINE. 


297 


them besides to expect no “ informationfrom me, such as is 
afforded in so many admirable and learned volumes of Eastern 
travel. But I promised to describe what I saw in the land, and 
the real impressions made on my mind ; and I have endeavoured 
to fulfil my promise. I shall feel thankful if the intense enjoy¬ 
ment and lasting good which I myself derived from this short 
tour have been shared in any degree by others. 


















APPENDIX. 


No. I. — Page 21. 

The population of Alexandria is understood to be about 200,000: 30,000 
are Italians, and 10,000 Jews. The Greeks are also very numerous. The leading’ 
mercantile houses amount to about twenty-five ; most of them English. The 
cotton of Egypt passes, of course, through Alexandria : 4,000,000 acres are said to 
be under cultivation, each acre yielding from 300 to 600 lbs. There is in Alexandria 
an American mission to the Copts and Mohammedans, with a boys’ and a girls’ 
school. The boys’ school is well attended by the Copts, but the recent establish¬ 
ment of the Viceroy’s schools, which offer the advantages of board, lodging, and 
pay, has naturally drawn away the Mohammedan boys. The American mission¬ 
aries have an Arabic service on Sundays, and recently the Arabic audience was 
too large for the room. The Church of Scotland has also an excellent mission in 
the city, superintended by my friend, Mr. Yuille. Miss Ashley’s girls’ school has 
about eighty scholars. The boys’ school is also tolerably well attended. There 
is a “ Bethel ” ship in the harbour, belonging to the mission, which on Sundays 
has a large congregation, to which I had the pleasure of ministering. The late 
Pasha granted a free site for a place of worship, which is being erected by the 
Church of Scotland. Prussia is also erecting a new and commodious church. 
The German Hospital has proved a great blessing. The present Pasha is, I have 
been informed, doing a good deal for education, and has founded a large number 
of schools throughout the country—two of them being in Alexandria. The 
pupils are admitted free, and kept at the expense of the Government. Such 
of them as enter the public Service are exempted from the conscription. The 
Pasha also supports 150 priests in connection with his great mosque. 

No. II.— Page 47. 

A few hints regarding Palestine travel may be useful to some of my readers 
who may intend visiting the East. 

The possibility of visiting Sinai en route to Palestine can be ascertained only at 
Cairo, owing to the unsettled state of the tribes of the desert; but at Cairo 
perfectly accurate information upon this point can be obtained. 

A steamer, weekly, at least, leaves Alexandria for the Levant, and lands passen¬ 
gers at Jaffa ; or—if the weather is bad, and that difficult seaport cannot be 
entered—at Caipha in the Bay of Acre, and under the shadow of Carmel. The 
time occupied in the voyage from Alexandria to Jaffa is at most thirty hours. 















APPENDIX. 


299 


Jerusalem can be easily reached from Jaffa in eight hours by Ramleh, and in 
twelve hours by the more interesting route of the two Beth-horons and Nebi 
Samwil. A party may hire a dragoman at Cairo ; but a good one may very 
possibly be obtained from the hotel-keeper at Jaffa, or even at Jerusalem. A 
single traveller ought not to engage one until he reaches Jerusalem. The pay for 
a dragoman at present is about thirty shillings a day for each person of a party of 
about five, if the engagement be for at least thirty days. The dragoman provides 
tents, horses, mules, and all the provisions required, including the payment of the 
bills in the one or two hotels in which the traveller can reside. He pays also 
backsheesh, guards, everything in short, except perhaps his fare to Jaffa (if hired 
at Cairo) or back fare from Beyrout. Travelling by Sinai, the traveller should be 
more liberal with his backsheesh than the dragoman. Not so in Syria. The 
dragoman should never be permitted to divert a traveller from any route agreed 
upon, or which he may wish to take. In spite of some infirmities of conduct, for 
which others were fully as much to blame as himself, we found our dragoman, 
Hadji Ali, a very honest and trustworthy fellow: but with all of them a strict 
bargain should be made before starting, and they need to be carefully watched as 
well as kindly treated during the journey. 

We would recommend the traveller before beginning his tour in Palestine, to 
make a very careful survey of the girths of his saddles, and the backs of his horses, 
which are often in a horrid state. Those who wish to ride with comfort ought to 
provide an English saddle, with good girths and crupper. Two pairs of trousers 
partially lined with chamois leather should be provided for riding. A bag and 
portmanteau are not too much luggage ; a pith hat and white canvass shoes are 
comfortable ; a Scotch plaid indispensable. The traveller should carry a revolver : 
it looks heroic, fierce, and dangerous ; but it is much safer for himself and others, 
much more economical, as well as more agreeable for all parties, that he should 
leave the powder and ball in England till his return. A medicine chest is also 
very useful and respectable, provided it is never used except when the cook or 
muleteer wishes to avail himself of some of its “ unemployed operatives.” 

If any man has the courage not only to brave the dangers of that “ great 
and terrible wilderness,” but also the anathemas of the“ Anti-Tobacco Society,” I 
would advise him to buy his cigars in England, should he be so foolish as to buy 
cigars anywhere. If, further, he can defy the Teetotal League and the great prophet 
of Mecca, he will find a little good cognac at the end of a long day’s journey 
helpful to his “ often infirmities.” Better far if he can with equal comfort dispense 
with both of these appliances. A pound or two of good tea from England should 
be added to his store. We also recommend him to take with him not only Dean 
Stanley’s “ Palestine,” which is essential, but also his Lectures on the Jewish 
Church. “ The Land and the Book,’’ the last edition of Robinson, and the articles 
on Palestine and the Holy Sepulchre in Smith’s Dictionary, will be also useful. 
For the sake of the nervous I may state that there is really no danger whatever, 
nor any discomfort, to any sensible and healthy man in journeying throughout all 
Palestine : it can be done with perfect ease. And for the sake of the married, I 
may add, that any healthy lady up to fifty, even though she has never been on 

















300 


APPENDIX. 


horseback since she was at school, may accompany her spouse, provided he be 
sedate and willing to take things quietly. From Beyrout a most comfortable 
diligence will convey passengers in a single day, and along a splendid road, to 
Damascus. “ Touching the coined money,” as Dominie Sampson would say, sove¬ 
reigns are the best coin all the world over : the circular notes of Coutts can be 
easily cashed at Jerusalem or Beyrout. Finally, a large Macintosh sponge bath, 
with sides only inflated—and these about ten inches deep—can be packed into a 
small space, and will be found at sea and on land a great luxury. 


No. III.— Page 112. 

The following is Dr. Stanley’s account of the Battle of Beth-horon, extracted 
from his “ Lectures on the Jewish Church—Part I.,” which many readers, who 
have not access to the volume, will read with interest:— 

“ The Battle of Beth-horon or Gibeon is one of the most important in the 
history of the world ; and yet so profound has been the indifference, first of the 
religious world, and then (through their example or influence) of the common 
world, to the historical study of the Hebrew annals, that the very name of this 
great battle is far less known to most of us than that of Marathon or Cannae. 

“ It is one of the few military engagements which belong equally to Eccle¬ 
siastical and to Civil History—which have decided equally the fortunes of the 
world and of the Church. The roll will be complete if to this we add two or three 
more which we shall encounter in the Jewish History ; and, in later times, the 
battle of the Milvian Bridge, which involved the fall of Paganism ; the battle of 
Poitiers, which sealed the fall of Arianism : the battle of Bedr, which secured the 
rise of Mahometanism -in Asia ; the battle of Tours, which checked the spread of 
Mahometanism in Western Europe; the battle of Lepanto, which checked it in 
Eastern Europe; the battle of Lutzen, which determined the balance of power 
between Roman Catholicism and Protestantism in Germany. 

“ The kings of Palestine, each in his little mountain fastness,—like the kings 
of early Greece, crowded thick together in the plains of Argos and of Thebes, 
when they were summoned to the Trojan war,—were roused by the tidings that 
the approaches to their territory in the Jordan valley and in the passes leading 
from it were in the hand of the enemy. Those who occupied the south felt that 
the crisis was yet more imminent when they heard of the capitulation of Gibeon. 
Jebus, or Jerusalem, even in those ancient times, was recognised as their centre. 
Its chief took the lead of the hostile confederacy. The point of attack, however, 
was not the invading army, but the traitors at home. Gibeon, the recreant city, 
was besieged. The continuance or the raising of the siege, as in the case of 
Orleans in the fifteenth century, and Vienna in the seventeenth, became the 
turning question of the war. The summons of the Gibeonites to Joshua was as 
urgent as words can describe, and gives the key-note to the whole movement. 

4 Slack not thy hand from thy servants ; come up to us quickly, and save us, and 
help us ; for all the kings of the Amorites that dwell in the mountains are 















APPENDIX. 


3ot 


gathered together against us.’ Not a moment was to be lost. As in the battle of 
Marathon, everything depended on the suddenness of the blow which should 
break in pieces the hostile confederation. On the former occasion of Joshua’s 
visit to Gibeon, it had been a three days’ journey from Gilgal, as according to the 
slow pace of eastern armies and caravans it might well be. But now, by a forced 
march, ‘ Joshua came unto them suddenly, and went up from Gilgal all night.’ 
When the sun rose behind him, he was already in the open ground at the foot of 
the heights of Gibeon, where the kings were encamped (according to tradition) 
by a spring in the neighbourhood. The towering hill at the foot of which Gibeon 
lay, rose before them on the west. The besieged and the besiegers alike were 
taken by surprise. 

“ As often before and after, so now, * not a man could stand before ’ the awe 
and the panic of the sudden sound of that terrible shout—the sudden appearance 
of that undaunted host, who came with the assurance not ‘ to fear, nor to be 
dismayed, but to be strong and of a good courage, for the Lord had delivered their 
enemies into their hands.’ The Canaanites fled down the western pass, and ‘ the 
Lord discomfited them before Israel, and slew them with a great slaughter at 
Gibeon, and chased them along the way that goeth up to Beth-horon.’ This was 
the first stage of the flight. It is a long rocky ascent, sinking and rising more 
than once before the summit is reached. From the summit, which is crowned by 
the village of Upper Beth-horon, a wide view opens over the valley of Ajalon, of 
‘ Stags ’ or ‘ Gazelles,’ which runs in from the plain of Sharon. Jaffa, Ramleh, 
Lydda, are all visible beyond. 

“ ‘ And it came to pass, as they fled before Israel, and were in the going down 
to Beth-horon, that the Lord cast down gi'eat stones from heaven upon them unto 
Azekah.’ This was the second stage of the flight. The fugitives had outstripped 
the pursuers; they had crossed the high ridge of Beth-horon the Upper; they 
were in full flight to Beth-horon the Nether. It is a rough, rocky road, sometimes 
over the upturned edges of the limestone strata, sometimes over sheets of smooth 
rock, sometimes over loose rectangular stones, sometimes over steps cut in the 
rock. It was as they fled down the slippery descent, that, as in the fight of Barak 
against Sisera, a fearful tempest, * thunder, lightning, and a deluge of hail,’ broke 
over the disordered ranks; ‘ they were more which died of the hailstones than 
they whom the children of Israel slew with the sword.’ 

“ So, as it would seem, ended the direct narrative of this second stage of the 
flight. But at this point, as in the case of the defeat of Sisera, we have one of 
those openings, as it were, in the structure of the Sacred history, which reveal to 
us a glimpse of another, probably an older, version, lying below the surface of the 
narrative. In the victory of Barak we have the whole account, first in prose and 
then in verse. Here we have, in like manner, first, the prose account; and then, 
either the same events, or the events immediately following, related in poetry—• 
taken from one of the lost books of the original canon of the Jewish Church, the 
book of Jasher. 

“ On the summit of the pass, wher3 is now the hamlet of the Upper Beth- 
horon, looking far down the deep descent of the Western valleys, with the green 














APPENDIX. 


02 


vale of Ajalon stretched out in the distance, and the wide expanse of the Medi¬ 
terranean Sea beyond, stood, as is intimated, the Israelite chief. Below him was 
rushing down, in wild confusion, the Amorite host. Around him were ‘ all his 
people of war and all his mighty men of valour.’ Behind him were the hills 
which hid Gibeon—the now rescued Gibeon—from his sight. But the sun stood 
high above those hills, ‘ in the midst of heaven,’ for the day had now far advanced, 
since he had emerged from his night march through the passes of Ai; and in 
front, over the western vale of Ajalon, may have been the faint form of the 
waning moon, visible above the hailstorm driving up from the sea in the black 
distance. Was the enemy to escape in safety, or was the speed with which Joshua 
had ‘ come quickly, and saved and helped ’ his defenceless allies, to be rewarded, 
before the close of that day, by a signal and decisive victory ? 

“ It is doubtless so standing on that lofty eminence, with outstretched hand 
and spear, as on the hill above Ai, that the Hero appears in the ancient song of 
the Book of Heroes. 

Then spake Joshua unto Jehovah 
In the day ‘ that God gave up the Amorite 
Into the hand of Israel,’ (LXX.) 

When He discomfited them in Gibeon, 

‘ And they were discomfited before the face of Israel.’ (LXX.) 

And Joshua said : 

‘ Be thou still,’ 0 Sun, upon Gibeon, 

And thou, Moon, upon the valley of Ajalon ! 

And the Sun was still, 

And the Moon stood, 

Until ‘ the nation ’ (or LXX. ‘ until God ’) had avenged them upon their 
enemies. 

And the sun stood in ‘ the very midst ’ of the heavens 
And hasted not to go down for a whole day. 

And there was no day like that before it or after it, 

That J ehovah heard the voice of a man, 

For Jehovah fought for Israel. 

And Joshua returned, and all Israel with him, unto the camp in Gilgal.” 


No. IV.— Page 235. 

All the great feasts ordained by Moses are kept by the Samaritans. Dr. 
Stanley and Mr. Mills both witnessed the observance of the Passover, and have 
given minute accounts of it. I quote the following from Mr. Mills, who saw 
it latest—jn 1860. I may here say that the best account I have seen of this sin¬ 
gular people is to be found in Mr. Mills’ book, “ Nablous and the Modern Samari¬ 
tans.” Murray. 1864. 

“ On the tenth of the month the sacrificial lambs are bought. These may be 
either kids of goats or lambs ; the latter being generally, if not at all times, chosen. 
They must be a year old, males, and ‘ without blemish.’ The number must be 












APPENDIX. 


303 


according- to the number of persons who are likely to be able to keep the feast. At 
present they are five or six, as the case may be. During the following days, which 
are days of preparation, these are carefully kept, and cleanly washed— a kind of 
purification to fit them for the paschal service ; a rite, in all probability, always 
observed in connection with the temple service (John v. 1). Early on the morning 
of the fourteenth day, the whole community, with few exceptions, close their 
dwellings in the city, and clamber up Mount Gerizim ; and on the top of this their 
most sacred mountain, pitch their tents in a circular form, there to celebrate the 
most national of all their solemnities. . . I and the friends who had joined me at 
Jerusalem, had pitched our tent in the valley, at the foot of Gerizim ; and on the 
morning of the 4th of May we clambered up the mountain. On reaching the 
encampment friendly voices greeted us from several tents, and having visited 
those best known to us, we rested for awhile with our friend Amram. Presently 
we took a stroll up to the temple ruins, and from thence had a perfect view of the 
interesting scene. . . The tents, ten in number, were arranged in a kind of circle, 
to face the highest point of the mountain, where their ancient temple stood, but 
now lying in ruins. Within a radius of a few hundred yards from the place where 
I stood, clustered all the spots which make Gerizim to them the most sacred moun¬ 
tain, the house of God. . . About half-past ten, the officials went forth to kindle 
the fire to roast the lambs. For this purpose, a circular pit is sunk in the earth, 
about six feet deep and three feet in diameter, and built around with loose stones. 
In this fire, made of dry heather, and briars, &c., was kindled, during which time 
Yacub stood upon a large stone, and offered up a prayer suited for the occasion. 
Another fire was then kindled in a kind of sunken trough, close by the platform 
where the service was to be performed. Over this, two cauldrons frdl of water 
were placed, and a short prayer offered. . . There were forty-eight adults, besides 
women and children ; the women and the little ones remaining in the tents. The 
congregation were in their ordinary dress, with the exception of the two officers 
and two or three of the elders, who were dressed in their white robes, as in the 
synagogue. A carpet was laid on the ground near the boiling cauldrons, where 
Yacub stood to read the service, assisted by some of the elders—all turning their 
faces towards the site of the temple. Six lambs now made their appearance, in 
the custody of five young men who drove them. These young men were dressed in 
blue robes of unbleached calico, having their loins girded. Yacub, whilst repeat¬ 
ing the service, stood on a large stone in front of the people, with his face towards 
them. , . At mid-day, the service had reached the place where the account of 
the paschal sacrifice is introduced : ‘ And the whole assembly of the congregation 
of Israel shall kill it in the evening’ (Exod. xii. 0) ; when, in an instant, one of 
the lambs was thrown on its back by the blue-clad young men, and the shochet, 
one of their number, with his flashing knife, did the murderous work with rapidity. 
I stood close by on purpose to see whether he would conform to the rabbinical 
rules ; but the work was done so quickly that I could observe nothing more than 
that he made two cuts. The other lambs were despatched in the same manner. 
Whilst the six were thus lying together, with their blood streaming from them, 
and in their last convulsive struggles, the young shochetim dipped their fingers in 

















3°4 


APPENDIX. 


the blood, and marked a spot on the foreheads and noses of the children. The 
same was done to some of the females ; but to none of the male adults. The 
whole male congregation now came up close to the reader ; they embraced and 
kissed one another, in congratulation that the lambs of their redemption had been 
slain. Next came the fleecing of the lambs—the service still continuing. The 
young men now carefully poured the boiling water over them, and plucked off 
their fleeces. Each lamb was then lifted up, with its head downwards, to drain off 
the remaining blood. The right fore-legs, which belonged to the priest, were 
removed, and placed on the wood, already laid for the purpose, together with the 
entrails, and salt added, and then burnt ; but the liver was carefully replaced. 
The inside being sprinkled with salt, and the hamstrings carefully removed, the 
next process was that of spitting. For this purpose, they had a long pole, which 
was thrust through from head to tail, near the bottom of which was a transverse 
peg, to prevent the body from slipping off. The lambs were now carried to the 
oven, which was by this time well heated. Into this they were carefully lowered, 
so that the sacrifices might not be defiled by coming into contact with the oven 
itself. This accomplished, a hurdle, prepared for the purpose, was placed over the 
mouth of the oven, well covered with moistened earth, to prevent any of the heat 
escaping. By this time, it was about two o’clock, and this part of the service was 
ended. At sunset, the service was recommenced. All the male population, with 
the lads, assembled around the oven. A large copper dish, filled with unleavened 
cakes and bitter herbs rolled up together, was held by Phineas Ben Isaac, nephew 
of the priest ; when, presently, all being assembled, he distributed them among 
the congregation. The hurdle was then removed, and the lambs drawn up one 
by one ; but, xmfortunately, one fell off the spit, and was taken up with difficulty. 
Their appearance was anything but inviting, they being burnt as black as ebony. 
Carpets were spread ready to receive them ; they were then removed to the plat¬ 
form where the service was read. Being strewn over with bitter herbs, the congre¬ 
gation stood in two files, the lambs being in a line between them. Most of the 
adults had now a kind of rope around the waist, and staves in their hands, and all 
had their shoes on. ‘ Thus shall ye eat it ; with your loins girded, your shoes on 
your feet, and your staff in your hand’ (Exod. xii. ] 1). The service was now per¬ 
formed by Amram, which continued for about fifteen minutes ; and wnen he had 
repeated the blessing, the congregation at once stooped, and, as if in haste and 
hunger, tore away the blackened masses piecemeal with their fingers, carrying por¬ 
tions to the females and little ones in the tents. In less than ten minutes the whole, 
with the exception of a few fragments, had disappeared. These were gathered 
and placed on the hurdle, and the area carefully examined, every crumb picked 
up, together with the bones, and all burnt over a fire kindled for the purpose in a 
trough, where the water had been boiled. ‘ And ye shall let nothing of it remain 
until the morning ; and that which remaineth of it until the morning ye shall 
burn with fire ’ (Exod xii. 10). Whilst the flames were blitzing and consuming 
the remnant of the paschal lambs, the people returned cheerfully to their 
tents.” 


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